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A  Story  of   Bonanza  Days  in  Nevada 

. .  BY. . 

Richard   Henry  Savage 

.  .Author  of  .  . 

In  The  Old  Chateau  The  Masked  Venus 

My  Official  Wife  The  Anarchist 

A  Daughter  of  Judas  The  Princess  of  Alaska 

The  Little  Lady  of  Lagunitas  Prince  SchamyPs  Wooing 

The  Flying  Halcyon  The  Passing  Show 

For  Life  and  Love  Delilah  of  Harlem 


F.  Tennyson    Neely 

Publisher 
Chicago  ...  ...  New  York 


No.  51.    Aug- .i8q5.     Issued  Semi-Monthlv.    $12.00  a  year.    Entered  at 
Chicago  Post-Office  as  Second-Class  Matter. 


Miss.. 

Devereux      £ 

Of  The..  5r 

in 

Mariquita 


Story 
of 


Nevada. 


Richard  Henry  Savage 


Author  of... 


'In  The  Old  Chateau" 
My  Official  Wife" 
1  A  Daughter  of  Judas'' 
'  The  Little  Lady  of  Lagunitas' 
'The  Flying  Halcyon" 
'  For  Life  and  Love  " 


"  The  Anarchist " 

"  The  Masked  Venus" 

"  The  Princess  of  Alaska" 

"  Delilah  of  Harlem" 

"The  Passing  Show" 

"  Prince  Schamyl's  Wooing" 


F.  Tennyson  Neely 

Publisher 
Chicago 

New  York 


COPYRIGHT,  1895, 
BY  .   .    . 
RICHARD   HENRY  SAVAGE. 

ALL    BIGHTS    RESERVED. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK    I. 

TITLE  BY  POSSESSION. 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.— IN  GRIZZLY    CANON 5 

II. — MR.  ROBERT  DEVEREUX  DECLINES  A  DRINK 28 

III. — ADMINISTERING  UPON  THE   ESTATE 56 

IV.— JIM  THE  PENMAN 77 

V.— IN  PAY  ORE 105 

BOOK  II. 

IN  BONANZA  DAYS. 

VI. — ONE  OF  NATURE'S  NOBLEMEN 132 

VII. — HER  FAULTLESS  FACE 160 

VIII. — A  VANISHED  GODDESS 188 

IX. — AFTER   THE   STORM 227 

X. — FROM   SHORE   TO   SHORE 255 

o 

BOOK   III. 

TRYING  THE  TITLE. 

XI. — FRESH   FIELDS   AND   PASTURES   NEW 286 

XII. — THE   TURN   OF   THE    TIDE 316 

XIII.— A  FLAW   IN   THE  DEED 352 

XIV. — MRS.    HAILEY   OSGOOD'S  GARDEN   PARTY 401 

XV. — THE   ECHOLESS   SHORE 454 


Wd.27569 


PKEFACE. 


The  State  of  Nevada  enjoys  the  proud  boast,  in  its 
recent  history,  of  having  unbosomed  to  the  greedy  hand 
of  man  the  most  compact  mass  of  treasure  ever  discovered. 
Its  gray  mountain  buttresses  hide  to-day  uncounted  mill- 
ions. Its  sage-brush  plains,  its  stony  wastes,  its  alkaline 
lakes,  its  wind-swept  gorges,  never  invited  the  thrifty 
Mormons,  who  fifty  years  ago  were  impelled  by  that  un- 
crowned monarch,  Brigham  Young,  to  deftly  seize  Cali- 
fornia. The  trifling  evidences  of  gold  found  in  the  Carson 
and  the  Humboldt  were  ignored  by  the  Mormon  spies,  who 
seized  a  few  fertile  oases  m  this  gloomy  land  of  the  Piutes. 
It  was  a  land  without  a  history,  until  the  secret  of  the 
mountain  gnomes  was  stolen  by  Comstock  on  the  flinty 
breast  of  Mount  Davidson.  In  1845,  the  splendid  mind 
of  Brigham  Young,  dreaming  dreams  far  beyond  even  the 
magnificent  Aaron  Burr,  was  turned  to  Mexico,  to  Arizona, 
to  California,  to  even  the  smiling  Sandwich  Islands,  those 
gems  of  the  blue  Pacific.  James  Marshall,  the  millwright, 
of  Culloma,  called  the  whole  world  to  the  "  fierce  race  for 
wealth,"  when  he  picked  up  that  little  nugget  at  Sutter's 
mill.  He  founded  by  chance  the  self-evolved  empire  of 
the  West,  and  thus  foiled  the  policy  of  the  astute  Brigham, 
who  never  knew  his  humble  mechanic  enemy.  California, 
the  golden  Star  of  the  West  in  our  ante-bellum  days,  in- 
cited the  later  explorations  of  Australia,  South  Africa, 
and  our  own  Western  territories,  for  hidden  treasure.  To 
this  dreary   waste  of  Washoe  came  Comstock— a  second 

(i) 


ii  PREFACE. 

Marshall — prospecting  for  gold;  Gould,  Curry  and  other 
humble  men  were  near  at  hand  when  the  shout  went  up 
which  called  the  whole  world  to  "Silverado."  Though 
the  State  of  Nevada  is  now  a  detnroned  queen,  and  Col- 
orado wears  the  silver  crown,  while  Montana  and  Cali- 
fornia divide  the  honors  of  the  golden  sceptre,  no  land  in 
the  world  ever  made  history  as  rapidly  as  Washoe,  and 
Nevada,  from  1858  down  to  those  royal  Bonanza  days, 
when  the  Nevada  Silver  Barons  stormed  San  Francisco, 
and  building  their  Pine  Street  Fortress,  made  themselves 
the  Bonanza  Kings  of  the  world. 

In  the  wiid  rush  of  Washoe,  the  infant  Territory  was 
filled  with  a  mass  of  heterogeneous  humanity  and 
"  womanity  "  who  wait,  in  the  fading  visions  of  the  grow- 
ing gray  gloom  of  "  recent  history,"  for  their  Bret  Harte. 
California  boasts  the  magician  of  the  Sierras,  and  Joaquin 
Miller  still  wears  his  crown  of  the  drifted  western  pine,  but 
Nevada  is  an  unwritten,  a  songless  and  a  silent  land.  Its 
glory  has  departed,  and  even  the  Bonanza  Kings  have 
"gone  to  a  land  without  laughter," — all  save  that  genial 
prince  of  finance,  whom  his  friends  hail  yet  as  "John 
Mackay."  Over  the  old  emigrant  road,  down  the  Geiger 
grade,  came  the  Washoe  rush  of  the  late  fifties;  the  early 
sixties  saw  the  wanderers  from  the  East  toiling  over  the 
plains  of  the  Sioux  and  Cheyenne,  ami  then  creeping  tim- 
idly under  Brigham's  rocky  battlements  at  Echo  Canon. 
Life  painted  itself  luridly  in  those  "flush  days'1  of  Vir- 
ginia City.  Adventurer  and  bravo,  sly  wanton,  and  toil- 
ing miner,  desperado  and  keen  operator,  fought,  delved, 
drank,  gambled,  schemed  and  struggled  for  the  "unearned 
increment."  Fresh  hearts  failed,  weary  hands  dropped 
nerveless  by  the  wayside,  plot  and  intrigue  wove  their  dark 
web  around  the  entombed  treasures,  and  the  Dance  of 
Death  was  mingled  with  the  fierce,  panting  life,  above  and 


PREFACE.  Ill 

below  ground.  When  Mount  Davidson's  millions  swamped 
San  Francisco  in  a  golden  tide,  the  pulse  that  beat  in  the 
mountain  city  throbbed  by  telegraph  down  at  "  The  Bay." 
Mad,  wild,  Bonanza  days!  Speculation  brought  with  it 
strange  scenes  of  dramatic  debauchery  in  the  two  states. 
In  the  early  seventies,  the  golden  and  silver  tide  had 
reached  its  highest  point,  and  around  the  Bonanza  Kings 
were  gathered  all  the  princes  and  princesses  of  the  House 
of  Belshazzar.  Here,  in  these  pages,  one  who  lived  and 
moved  among  those  scenes  as  boy  and  man,  has  written 
the  story  of  a  mine!  The  strange  history  of  the  inheritance 
of  a  friendless  girl!  The  story  of  an  unpunished  crime! 
There  are  pictures  of  those  Delilah  parlors  where  the 
mighty  men  of  the  Stock  Exchange  plotted  to  delude  the 
share-buying  public,  left  stranded  when  the  crash  came. 
Schemes  which  reached  out  from  San  Francisco  to  Vir- 
ginia City,  New  York,  London,  and  Paris,  are  herein 
drawn  from  life,  with  phases  of  a  wild,  Walpurgis  night 
social  revel  which  has  now  happily  passed  away  forever. 
The  remarkable  Southern  adventurer  who  sought  to  be 
"one  of  Nature's  noblemen," — the  "  Woman  in  Scarlet," 
who  was  Queen  of  the  Night,  the  great  King  of  Forgers, 
and  the  social  and  mining  adventurers  of  that  ' '  time  of 
storm  and  stress,"  are  real  human  units  who  have  "  strutted 
their  brief  hour"  upon  the  scenes  of  Bonanzadom.  The 
matchless  miners  of  Nevada,  brave,  bold  and  resolute,  are 
herein  called  back  from  the  misty  past,  and,  while  to-day, 
the  streets  of  Virginia  City  are  deserted,  and  the  glory  of 
the  past  has  faded,  the  romance  of  the  old  still  lingers! 
Thrilling  and  exciting,  the  story  of  Miss  Devereux  of  the 
Mariquita,  tells  of  a  modern  Una,  who  walked  unharmed 
among  the  lions.  It  is  the  history  of  a  princess  "who 
came  to  her  own  again,"  after  many  days.  It  is  vain  to 
search  in  the  world's  financial  history  for  a  parallel  to  the 


PREFACE. 


upheaval  brought  about  by  the  delvers  in  Mount  David- 
ion's  flinty  bosom.  No  such  men  and  women  now  exist, 
for  the  fierce  light  which  played  upon  the  Silver  Throne 
has  faded  forever,  and  the  story  of  Miss  Devereux  of  the 
Mariquita,  lifts  for  a  few  tableaux  the  curtain  which  has 
fallen  for  all  time,  for  the  play  is  played  out,  the  actors 
are  all  dead  or  hidden  in  the  gloom  of  obscurity.  The 
beating  of  the  human  heart  upon  Mount  Davidson,  the 
secret  life  of  the  Broker  Barons,  and  the  intrigues  of  cap- 
italist and  schemer,  are  painted  in  the  fifteen  chapters  of 
this  exciting  novel,  for  those  who  across  the  vanished 
years  "  see  these  things  as  in  a  glass  darkly." 


BOOK  I. 

Title  by  Possession. 


CHAPTER  I. 
In   Grizzly   Canon. 

"Well,  Steve!  Back  again  from  the  Bay!  You  do 
look  as  if  you  have  had  a  rough  ride!  Come  in  and  have 
a  drink!  "  The  speaker  had  been  eagerly  waiting  for  the 
Carson  City  stage,  on  a  nipping  September  evening  in  the 
year  1862.  The  sun  had  sunk  behind  grim  Mount  David- 
son, and  his  last  rays  glinted  back  sullenly  from  the  rocky 
faces  of  the  forbidding  gray  mountain  ranges  around 
Virginia  City.  The  sterile  sagebrush  hills  of  Nevada  had 
wrapped  themselves  in  dusky  evening  robes,  and  the  stars 
were  shining  coldly  far  above  in  the  thin  mountain  air.  The 
person  thus  addressed,  briskly  sprang  down  from  his  seat  of 
honor,  next  to  the  driver,  and  peered  furtively  at  the 
throng  of  idlers  loitering  around  the  stage  station.  In 
the  evening  shadows  he  seemed  to  see  nothing  of  special 
interest,  and,  as  he  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  only  then  Mr. 
Steve  Berard's  right  hand  dropped  quietly  to  his  side.  It 
had  been  resting  on  the  polished  mahogany  butt  of  a 
heavy  revolver,  whose  blue  steel  barrel  bore  those  cheering 
words—  "Sani'l  Colt,  Hartford,  Conn.,  U.  S.  Navy," 
for  "Ready,  aye,  ready!"  was  the  Berard  family  motto. 

"  All  right,"  whispered  his  companion,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  That  gang  is  all  down  to-night  at  Gold  Hill.     Big  bear 

5 


6  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

and  bull  fight.  I've  been  waiting  here  for  you  two  hours. 
Come  in!"  And  Fred  Wyman  hastily  drew  the  newcomer 
along  through  the  motley  crowd  now  pouring  into  the 
Magnolia  saloon.  Its  open  doors  and  cheery  lights  were 
the  very  warmest  signs  of  welcome  at  the  present  moment 
in  the  straggling  mining  town  clinging  to  the  scarred 
breast  of  Mount  Davidson,  towering  there  eight  thousand 
feet  above  the  blue  Pacific — a  bleak  mountain  eyrie! 

1 <  Snow  on  the  Geiger  grade?"  queried  the  off-hand  host, 
as  he  elbowed  Steve  Berard  up  to  a  quartet  of  busy  bar- 
keepers whose  faces  were  all  exemplars  of  that  shining 
truth,  "The  Spirit  ye  have  always  with  you!  " — "Plenty 
and  to  spare  shortly,"  said  Berard,  as  he  contemptuously 
pushed  back  the  bottle  first  offered.  < '  Not  that— the  best  in 
the  house!"  he  cried,  as  he  defiantly  threw  down  a  ring- 
ing twenty-dollar  gold  piece  on  the  polished  bar  slab. 
Raising  his  glass,  he  nodded  carelessly  to  Wyman,  and 
then  quickly  swept  his  change  into  the  pocket  of  his 
sack  coat.  With  one  keen  glance  at  the  bystanders,  Berard 
whispered:  "Look  here,  Fred,  I've  got  to  have  some 
supper,  quick.  There's  a  man  putting  up  at  the  Golden 
Eagle  whom  I  played  with  all  the  way  from  'Frisco  to  Sacra- 
mento. Big  merchant!  If  he  is  as  much  of  a  fool  on  land 
as  on  water,  I'll  be  staked  for  the  whole  winter  by  morn- 
ing. I  can't  afford  to  miss  him!  I'll  get  hold  of  him 
again  at  the  supper  table  sure.  Such  suckers  are  only 
caught  once  in  a  lifetime." 

"But— those  assays?"  eagerly  queried  Wyman. 

"  Tell  you  all  later.  Come  up  to  my  room  at  midnight 
and  wait.  There  he  goes  now";  and  Mr.  Steve  Berard 
darted  unceremoniously  out  of  a  side  door  as  the  tired 


IN    GRIZZLY    CANON.  7 

group,  crawling  out  of  the  great  Concord  stage  coach  in 
the  stable  yard,  slowly  broke  up. 

With  a  muttered  curse,  Fred  Wyman  saw  his  companion 
escape  and  hasten  to  join  a  party  now  straggling  along 
the  narrow  street  skirting  the  hillside,  where  an  extra 
twelve  inches  on  the  right  leg  would  have  made  the  north- 
ward journey  to  the  hotel  far  more  pleasant.  For  then, 
as  now,  Virginia  City's  first  welcome  to  the  stranger  was 
the  uneasy  sensation  that  everything  was  doomed  to  slip 
down  two  thousand  feet  below  into  the  resounding  canons 
of  the  Carson  River. 

"  Just  his  cool  impudence!  "  snorted  Wyman.  "I  can't 
help  it  now.     I  will  wait  for  the  mail  anyway! " 

Possessing  himself  of  a  choice  cigar  by  the  surrender  of 
a  half  dollar,  the  young  man  gazed  at  the  motley  arrivals 
now  clustered  around  the  belated  stage,  and  sullenly  await- 
ing the  unloading  of  the  great  boot  filled  with  their  lug- 
gage. Whip  in  hand,  the  stunted  driver,  a  keen-eyed,  cross- 
looking  man  of  the  shortest  possible  legs  and  the  longest 
possible  oaths,  was  contemptuously  hurling  anathemas  at 
the  management  of  the  monopoly  stage  line,  and  terror- 
izing the  subservient  hostlers.  "An  hour  and  a  half  late 
with  these  old  crabs !  "  He  was  an  iEtna  of  sulphurous 
ejaculation,  while  the  statuesque  "  shot-gun  "  messenger 
stood  silent  and  watchful,  with  his  foot  sternly  planted  on 
Wells,  Fargo  and  Co.'s  iron-bound  express  box. 

"What  a  rabble!"  mused  the  disgusted  Wyman,  as  he 
saw  the  substantial  looking  merchant  disappear  in  the 
shadows  followed  by  the  stealthy  Berard,  who  was  "bold, 
yet  not  too  bold."  For  the  consequential  looking  denizen 
of  San  Francisco,  doomed  to  be  Berard' s  prey,  had  just 
then  pompously  possessed  himself   of  that  one  typically 


8  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

mysterious  "  lady  passenger,  "whose  attire  of  price  and  Fat- 
ima-like  eyes,  are  always  the  standing  interrogation  points 
of  frontier  stage  travel.  An  earnestly  puffing  Hebrew  mer- 
chant, a  stray  singing  girl,  a  wild-eyed  mining  engineer  of 
foreign  extraction,  two  Chinamen  and  a  robust-looking 
woman  cook — "  specially  imported  for  the  Golden  Eagle 
Hotel" — made  up  the  new  arrivals  in  these  "higher  cir- 
cles" of  Washoe  society,  the  bouquet  finishing  with  a 
couple  of  hard-eyed  "  sports,"  who,  perched  on  the  roof  of 
the  stage,  looked  every  inch  the  thugs,  gamblers  and 
would-be  murderers  they  were  at  heart. 

"This  is  a  nice  hole,"  growled  Fred  Wyman,  as  he 
walked  into  the  huge  old  stable,  roughly  built  of  riven 
slabs,  and  then  personally  inspected  the  provender  of  his 
pet  riding  mule,  before  seeking  his  own  repast.  * '  I  will 
have  to  go  down  to  the  canon  after  supper.  Devereux  is 
always  crazy  over  that  woman's  letters.  I  wonder  how 
many  men  love  their  wives  like  that  eccentric."  There 
was  a  faint  sneer  on  Fred  Wyman' s  mobile  lip  as  he 
strolled  up  to  the  bar  counter  and  took  a  drink  « '  on  private 
account."  Though  but  twenty-four  years  of  age,  the  tall, 
flashily  handsome  young  fellow  had  already  solved  all 
the  problems  of  life — to  his  own  satisfaction.  A  pair  of 
dark,  handsome,  uneasy  eyes  gave  a  shade  of  distinction 
to  a  face  whose  full  lips  and  softened  chin  betrayed  the 
pleasure  lover.  A  frontier  beard  and  silken  mustache, well 
set  off  the  rich  locks  of  that  abundantly  vitalized  youth 
which  was  Wyman's  best  capital.  Nervous,  neat  and  ath- 
letic, his  swing  and  dash  spoke  of  the  outdoor  habits  of 
the  West  and  Southwest,  and  withal,  a  varnish  of  superior 
polish  lifted  him  above  the  rude  men  now  boisterously 
quarreling  over  the  last  news  from  the  front. 


IN    GRIZZLY    CANON.  9 

For,  in  these  dark  days  of  '62,  after  the  Peninsula, 
the  second  Bull  Run  and  Antietam,  with  the  gloomy  hor- 
rors of  Fredericksburg  and  Murfreesboro  waiting  in  the 
web  of  the  Fates,  no  man  could  tell  whether  "Jeff"  Davis 
or  "Abe"  Lincoln  would  rule  from  Portland,  Maine,  to 
the  Straits  of  Fuca.  The  stars  and  stripes  and  stars  and 
bars  were  flying  on  a  level.  Here  on  the  Comstock,  in 
the  far  away  territory  of  Nevada,  men  were  only  ' « gold 
mad,"  "silver  mad,"  "  whisky  mad,"  "card  mad,"  or 
"  woman  mad,"  but  not  maddened  by  the  roar  of  battle. 
They  simply  assassinated  in  a  cowardly  and  free  and  easy 
manner,  callously  forgetful  of  the  sleepless  vengeance  of 
that  Lord  who  sternly  repays  all. 

Fred  Wyman's  intelligent  brow  was  unruffled  as  he 
gazed  with  youthful  superiority,,  at  the  bar-room  junta. 
His  eyes  never  smiling,  though  his  facile  lips  were  rolled 
apart  in  an  habitual  curl,  swept  along  the  two  or  three 
mean  straggling  streets  of  Virginia  City,  now  flashing 
into  light. 

There  was  the  regular  sequence,  saloon,  gambling  shop, 
cigar  store,  etc.,  in  unvarying  regularity.  Down  below,  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  the  "  Ophir,"  "  Gould  and  Curry,"  and 
one  or  two  other  stamp  mills  were  still  pounding  noisily 
away.  A  few  cross  streets  of  hovels  and  cabins  sheltered 
the  men  not  at  work  in  the  mines,  or  lounging  in  the 
saloons. 

"  It's  a  pretty  tough  community,"  mused  Wyman.  "Not 
half  a  dozen  home  circles  here  in  ten  thousand  men, 
all  in  the  flower  of  life.  One  third  of  these  fellows  hide 
in  the  tunnels  and  shafts,  another  third  in  their  beds,  and 
the  last  shift  are  spending  their  hard  won  wages  in  dance 
house,  gin   mill,  or   gambling  saloon.     So   it  goes,  with 


10  MISS   DEVEREUX    OF  THE    MARIQUITA. 

an  occasional  job  for  the  coroner,  mostly  sudden  revolver 
practice."  The  young  pleasure  lover's  eyes  hardened  as 
he  turned  away  from  the  window.  He  was  wearied  of 
these  flinty  hills,  the  bleak  gullies,  the  sagebrush  plains, 
and  the  dreary  wind-swept  mountain  side.  Not  a  tree  nor 
flower,  not  a  window  plant  or  ribboned  curtain  spoke  of 
that  respectable  element  of  womanhood  which  was  supposed 
yet  co  linger,  in  a  dim  "  survival  of  the  fittest,"  far  over 
the  Sioux  haunted  plains  "in  the  States,"  or  to  be  now 
clinging  to  the  shores  of  the  Pacific  slope  of  the  Sierra 
Nevadas,  within  sight  of  the  sprouting  wooden  church 
steeples  of  the  Yankee.  For,  already,  the  old  missions 
were  crumbling  to  ruins,  and  the  black  browed  men  of  the 
serape  and  lasso  were  vanishing  with  the  ghostly  Padres, 
who  had  melted  away  in  the  golden  days  of  the  Church, 
into  mere  hovering  shades. 

In  a  vague  desire  for  popularity  and  an  easy  self  surren- 
der, Fred  Wyman  swallowed  several  drinks  with  chance 
met  companions  as  he  waited  for  the  little  one  window  of 
the  postoffice  to  open.  A  line  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  men, 
whose  belted  revolvers,  heavy  boots  and  flannel  shirts 
were  void  of  the  aesthetic  decorative  element,  was  await- 
ing the  distribution  of  the  mail. 

"Lots  of  time,"  lazily  soliloquized  Wyman,  as  he 
declined  several  pressing  invitations  to  be  the  fourth 
man  of  a  poker  game,  where  a  player's  life  went 
with  his  hand,  and  he  also  gracefully  put  aside  further 
suggestions  of  a  visit  to  the  faro  games,  or  the  dance 
houses,  where  the  Scarlet  Woman,  with  her  fresh  evening 
smile,  and  deepest  decollete  cut,  was  ' '  ready  to  meet  all 
ers." 
By  Jove!  a  respectable  woman  on   the  .social   scene 


IN    GRIZZLY    CANON.  11 

would  draw  to  heavy  houses  here.  Devereux  will  never 
make  a  miner.  I  wonder,  now,  if  his  wife  came  up  here 
and  opened  a  good  boarding-house,  they  could  not  dis- 
count the  Mariquita.  Damn  the  Mariquita!  "  he  angrily  ex- 
claimed, as  the  hasty  exit  of  his  friend  came  back  to  gnaw 
him  with  its  cool  disdain.  "Steve  is  a  cold-hearted 
scoundrel,  and  will  he  play  me  fair?  Yet,  after  all,  he  is 
the  only  Southern  man  I  know  here."  For,  as  in  a 
corner,  a  haggard  eyed  boy  was  crooning,  "I'm  gwine 
back  to  Dixie,  I'm  gwine  where  the  orange  blossoms 
grow,"  it  recalled  to  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman,  an  integral, 
but  very  active  section  of  his  once  beloved  country,  which 
he  had  suddenly  left,  for  cause,  two  years  before. 

The  young  adventurer  eyed  with  disdain  the  cheap 
adornments  of  the  Magnolia  saloon.  A  flashy  bar  with 
cut  glass  bottles  of  multi-colored  poisons,  a  huge  box 
stove  now  roaring  with  a  fire  of  "fat"  pine  wood,  several 
prints  not  hung  on  the  line,  but  illustrative  of  the  crude 
artistic  development  of  Virginia  City  in  those  halcyon 
days,  were  the  main  features. 

"The  Southern  Beauty  "—very,  very  degagee,  and  all 
too  amiable,  in  her  abandon.  "The  great  race  between  the 
'Natchez'  and  the  "Planter."'  A  realistic  print  of  the 
"Great  International  Fight  between  Messrs.  Tom  Sayers 
and  John  C.  Heenan,  atFarmborough,"  and  a  phenomen- 
ally over-canvased  clipper  ship,  entitled  "The  Flying 
Cloud."  The  competitive  Babel  of  maudlin  profanity, 
worn-out  obscenity,  and  vain  sectional  quarrel  was  salted 
with  useless  conjectures  as  to  the  value  of  the  ten  thousand 
"mining  locations  "  now  ornamenting  the  records  of  Storey 
county,  Nevada.  These  valuable  archives  had  successively 
ornamented  a  butcher  shop,  a  stable  office,   a  blacksmith 


12  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUlTA. 

shop,  and  now  were  conveniently  located  in  a  "respect- 
able" saloon.  To  use  the  vulgate,  "Everybody  had  a 
hack  at  them."  And  yet,  the  titles  to  one  thousand 
millions  of  hidden  bullion  were  traced  in  these  vicarious 
leaflets.  That  golden  future  for  which  Frederick  Wynian 
sighed  was  locked  up  in  a  one-quarter  ownership  of  the 
"Mariquita,"  to  whose  high-sounding  title  the  name  of 
Robert  Devereux  was  affixed  as  "original  discoverer." 
For  the  lonely  man,  now  waiting  for  him  in  his  log  cabin, 
a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  "  center  of  civilization,"  in  the 
gloomy  Grizzly  Canon,  had  taken  in  as  a  partner  the 
showy  youth  who  was,  at  least,  a  companion. 

Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  was  vaguely  supposed  to  be 
"educated,"  a  fortuitous  circumstance  which  militated 
against  him  in  Virginia  City.  "Stuck  up,"  "Puts 
on  airs,"  was  a  dangerous  general  verdict.  A  slight 
affectation  of  dress,  and  the  remains  of  some  aca- 
demic training,  gained  in  two  years  of  college  life, 
really  lifted  Wyman  into  a  dangerous  eminence.  He  had 
never  told  the  facts  of  his  sudden  adieu  to  Horatius  Flaccus 
and  Publius  Terentius.  A  vicious  knife  thrust  in  the 
ribs  of  a  forward  Yankee  professor  at  Louisville,  suddenly 
turned  the  passionate  youth  westward.  Physically  drawn 
toward  every  luxury,  sly,  insincere,  and  at  heart  callous 
and  dishonest,  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  was  in  the  golden 
glow  of  that  ripening  youth  which  enchants  blind  woman- 
hood with  the  fool's  gold  of  appearance. 

He  stirred  uneasily  in  his  chair  as  the  crowd  at  the  post- 
office  lessened  to  a  knot,  and  murmured,  "I  must  watch 
them  both.  If  it  does  turn  out  to  be  a  mine,  by  God,  I'll 
have  it  all!  I'll  find  the  way."  As  he  walked  over  the 
muddy,  unpaved  way  to  the  postoffice,  an  ugly  thought 


IX    GRIZZLY    CAffON.  13 

came  to  him.  "Berard  may  go  in  with  Devereux,  on  the 
private,  and  so  get  rid  of  me.  If  I  could  only  get  Dever- 
eiix down  t<\  the  Bay  for  the  winter,  I  could  work  some 
safe  scheme.  Yes,  I  must  get  rid  of  him,  and  divide 
with  Steve.     But  how?" 

In  a  brown  study,  Wyman  pocketed  two  bulky  letters 
for  his  partner,  and  his  face  was  still  clouded  as  he 
mounted  his  big  red  mule,  "Pete,"  and  slowly  rode 
down  into  the  deeper  night  shadows  veiling  Grizzly 
Canon.  "I  will  have  time  to  think  it  over  before 
Steve  will  finish  up  with  his  San  Francisco  greenhorn," 
mused  the  excited  young  adventurer.  "  Steve  dare  not 
hold  back  the  truth  from  me.  He  has  no  title;  I  have  at 
least  possession,  and  I  must  separate  Devereux  and  him 
forever. " 

In  his  selfish  forgetfulness  of  the  fact  that  his  waiting 
partner  had  generously  given  him  the  quarter  of  the 
mine  he  legally  owned,  "for  services,"  Wyman  ignored 
the  ownership  by  Devereux  of  the  greater  portion  of  the 
"Mariquita."  It  was  now  represented  by  a  two  hundred 
foot  tunnel,  two  shafts,  and  several  hundred  dollars  worth 
of  tools  and  implements. 

The  chill  night  winds  sweeping  down  the  "Divide," 
forced  Wyman  to  bend  his  head  away  from  the  blast. 
Lost  in  thought,  he  was  unprepared  as  his  mule  suddenly 
stumbled,  and  he  fell  prone  upon  a  soft  mound  of  fresh 
earth.  He  had  been  picking  his  way  along  through  a  little 
valley,  where  some  wind-blown  earth  afforded  an  easy 
path  to  the  spade  of  the  volunteer  burial  parties  of  Vir- 
ginia   City. 

As  he  caught  his  mule,  he  stumbled  over  a  rude  head- 
board.    Then  in  the  darkness  of  the  growing  night  there 


14  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

came  to  Frederick  Wyman  thoughts  blacker  than  the 
shades  around  him,  and  yet  they  were  welcome  to  him. 
He  rode  on  slowly  to  where  a  single  glimmering  light 
showed  him  all  the  home  he  could  boast  of  now.  "  Yes, 
it  is  the  only  way.  But  how  to  work  it!  All  depends 
upon  Steve.  If  I  only  dared,  I  would  go  away  myself  with 
some  of  the  stuff,"  he  grumbled,  "but  I  would  then  leave 
Steve  and  Devereux  alone  here  together.  I  wish  to  God 
I  had  studied  for  six  months  metallurgy  and  assaying, 
instead  of  those  cursed  Greek  roots  and  Latin  paradigms. 
Half  knowledge  is  more  maddening  than  idiocy.  I  feel  in 
my  heart  that  there  is  sheeted  horn  silver  and  fat  sulphide 
ores  in  the  heavy  stuff  I  have  secreted,  and  yet  I  do  not 
dare  to  go  near  any  assayer  here.  They  would  give  me 
away." 

He  rode  up  to  the  door  of  a  rough  log  cabin,  whose 
huge  chimney  of  rough  stones  was  now  naming  out  like 
a  furnace.  A  hobbling  old  Piute  Indian,  who  flourished 
under  the  name  of  "Captain  Johnson,"  the  legacy  of 
some  neatly  scalped  army  officer,  led  the  mule  away.  Be- 
fore Wyman  could  enter  the  door,  a  nervous  voice  rang 
out  on  the  night,  "  Anything  for  me,  Fred?"  The  man 
stood  near  enough  to  place  his  hand  in  friendship  on  the 
young  man's  shoulder,  and  Wyman  started  like  a  guilty 
shade,  as  he  huskily  said,  "Yes;  two.  Here  they  are. 
How  are  you  to-night?  " 

"Just  the  same;  weak  enough,"  was  the  feeble  response 
of  Devereux,  as  he  disappeared  into  the  cabin. 

Wyman  drew  up  to  a  rough  table,  and,  seated  on  a  bis- 
cuit box,  greedily  devoured  a  meal  of  bacon,  beans  and 
strong  coffee  innocent  of  cream.  He  was  glad  to  be  left 
to  the  silence  of  his  own  black,  bitter  heart,  for  the  blood 


IN    GRIZZLY    CANON.  %     15 

was  bounding  in  his  veins  under  the  suspense  of  his  com- 
ing excitement.  Seated  by  the  fire,  Robert  Devereux 
was  poring  over  the  folded  leaves  of  two  long  letters  by 
the  light  of  a  tallow  dip,  stuck  in  the  pine  logs  with  a 
miner's  candle  holder.  When  he  had  thrust  his  letters 
deep  into  the  bosom  of  his  rough  flannel  jerkin,  Devereux 
drew  up  to  the  table  and  addressed  himself  to  the  uninvit- 
ing viands.  His  lip  trembled  with  suppressed  feeling,  and 
a  few  draughts  of  coffee  were  his  sole  repast,  aided  by 
several  attempts  at  what  it  were  vain  flattery  to  call  "  the 
loaf."  Captain  Johnson,  who  had  by  the  cohesion  of 
helplessness  settled  down  as  their  unpaid  drudge,  had 
never  mastered  the  bread  of  the  pale  face.  The  salted 
flour  paste,  burned  on  one  side,  doughy  on  the  other,  was, 
in  truth,  ' '  big  medicine. " 

"  Going  up  to  town  to-night?"  queried  Devereux,  as  the 
lithe  young  fellow  stuffed  a  pipe,  and  betook  himself  to 
striding  up  and  down  in  the  firelight,  on  the  red  clay 
floor. 

"Yes,  I  must  see  a  man,"  sententiously  said  Wyman, 
"  and,  I  won't  be  back  till  noon,  to-morrow.  I'll  take  up 
your  letters.     All  well  down  at  the  Bay?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  elder  man  wearily,  "  but  they  want 
me  at  home." 

"Skeptical  as  to  the  Mariquita?  "  queried  Wyman,  with 
the  half  sneer  which  was  the  hall-mark  of  his  coarse 
egoism. 

"They  are  anxious  about  my  long  sickness,"  sadly 
rejoined  Devereux  as  he  drew  out  writing  material  from 
an  emptied  provision  case,  which  was  now  an  escritoire. 
While  the  husband  and  father  wrote  in  silence,  the  young 
man  paced  the  floor  like  a  restless  wolf.     He  hungered 


16  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

for  the  hidden  tidings  known  only  to  Steve  Berard  who 
was  sitting  just  then  at  a  table  in  the  "  Golden 
Eagle,"  where  a  half  dozen  fresh  packs  of  cards  contained 
in  their  glossy  surfaces  the  mystic  combinations  which 
held  Steve   Berard's   hoped   for    "winter  stake." 

Gray-eyed,  bullet-headed,  white-haired,  with  fine  woman- 
ish, sinewy  hands,  and  a  pitiless  thin  lipr  Steve  Berard  did 
not  have  a  clear  title  to  his  name.  For  he  had  left  the  old 
patronymic  by  the  side  of  a  murdered  Federal  paymaster 
in  Missouri,  whose  governmental  "  greenback"  wallet  had 
furnished  forth  the  fleeing  guerilla  on  his  westward 
journey.  "Let  these  fools  fight  on  here,  I  am  going  to 
skip  to  California,"  the  ruffian  had  confided  to  a  fellow 
disciple  of  Quantrell,  the  jayhawker;  and  in  truth,  a  fine 
horse,  branded  U.  S.,bore  the  ex-Mississippi  River  gambler 
well  on  his  way  westward,  through  the  Indian  territory. 

Seated  opposite  the  pompous  commercial  magnate  from 
San  Francisco,  Berard  knew  that  a  little  "raising  of  prices" 
of  his  goods  on  the  flush  companies,  would  recoup  the 
purse  of  his  doltish  victim.  For,  bad  wine  and  the  wintry 
smiles  of  the  frontier  Delilah  had  already  blinded  the 
"  soft  pork  and  sour  flour"  pillar  of  commerce. 

Down  in  GrizzlyCanon,  where  the  coyotes  yelped  dismally 
on  the  lonely  rock  knolls,  the  table  at  which  Devereux  was 
writing,  divided  the  two  dissimilar  mining  partners.  The 
Rembrandt  light  of  the  fire  threw  Wyman's  dusky  shadow 
in  strange  outlines  on  the  floor,  as  he  awaited  the  prepara- 
tion of  the  letters.  For  Robert  Devereux  was  writing 
one  to  the  loving  wife  who  had  shared  his  uncertain 
fortunes,  and  a  few  great  printed  lines  to  little  Hope,  the 
one  ewe  lamb  of  the  modest  line  of  Devereux.  A  four 
months'  siege  of  ague  had  weakened  the  man  of  forty-five, 


IN    GRIZZLY    CANON,  17 

whose  grizzled  beard,  worn  and  wasted  cheeks,  and  sunken 
eyes  told  of  one  who  was  fast  failing  in  "  the  fierce  race  for 
wealth. "  A  thoughtful  tender  indecision  characterized  the 
whole  aspect  of  the  man,  whose  sympathetic  face  grew 
almost  handsome  as  thoughts  of  the  absent  wife  and  bairn 
thronged  upon  him.  The  scratching  of  his  pen  was  the 
only  sound  in  the  cabin,  save  the  shuffling  feet  of  the  old 
Indian  in  the  ''lean-to"  shed. 

As  Devereux  threw  down  the  pen  with  a  sigh,  he  gazed 
curiously  at  Wyman,  still  striding  up  and  down. 

"What's  the  matter! "  roughly  demanded  the  restless 
Wyman. 

A  misty  look  passed  over  Devereux's  eyes.  "As  you 
walked  there,  your  shadow  was  carved  out,  as  if  you  were 
swimming  in  a  sea  of  blood,"  slowly  said  the  slender 
middle-aged  man,  as  he  threw  himself  down  on  one  of  two 
rough  bunks,  filled  with  blue  and  gray  blankets.  His 
mind  was  in  a  moody  and  weakened  depression. 

"Nonsense,"  energetically  shouted  Wyman,  with  a  start. 
"You  need  twenty  more  grains  of  quinine,  that's  what 
you  want,  I'll  get  it  for  you.  Bring  my  mule!  "  he  yelled 
to  the  old  Indian.  Grasping  the  letters  lying  on  the  table, 
he  then  buckled  on  his  heavy  revolver.  ' '  Shall  I  bring 
you  down  also  a  bottle  of  good  whisky?  "  Wyman  turned 
at  the  door. 

"No,  Fred,"  patiently  replied  the  older,  "whisky  and 
I  have  said  good-by  forever.  There's  madness,  not  health, 
in  the  bottle." 

"  You're  a  bit  too  much  of  a  Puritan  for  Virginia  City," 
rapped  out  Wyman,  as  he  cried  "So-long!"  and  rode 
away  out  into  the  night.  He  left  behind  him,  hovering 
around  the  despairing  lonely  man,  white-winged  visions  of 


18  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

peace  and  love,  called  up  by  the  thoughts  of  his  distant 
wife  and  child.  On  his  own  solitary  way  there  were  dark 
spirits  ministering  to  Wy man's  cruel  imaginings,  spirits 
whose  wings  wafted  the  brooding  shadows  of  death  over 
that  lonely  cabin,  lying  below  him. 

' '  What  in  the  devil's  name  put  that  into  his  head  now  ?  " 
growled  Wyman,  as  he  spurred  his  mule  rapidly  up  the 
pass.     He  was  startled  into  a  prophetic  anger. 

In  the  half  hour  before  he  reached  the  shaky  old  stable 
on  C  street,  around  which  the  night  wind  howled,  Wyman 
revolved  all  the  occurrences  of  the  last  year.  The  little 
money  he  had  received  from  the  old  Kentucky  home,  be- 
fore a  fraternal  war  had  cut  off  all  communication,  had 
aided  to  prosecute  the  "legal  work  "  needed  to  hold  the 
<  <  Mariquita. " 

Devereux,  himself  a  Massachusetts  man,  of  some  in- 
telligence and  a  fine  business  experience,  had  sold  from 
time  to  time  a  few  of  his  first  locations,  and  all  these 
funds  had  either  gone  to  the  support  of  his  little  family  at 
San  Francisco,  or  into  the  scratchy  attempts  to  open  what 
might  be  a  mine  or  a  mere  bald  rock  gallery. 

Hope  nerved  always  the  stout  miner's  arm,  and  yet, 
alas!  too  many  of  these  human  burrows  were  doomed  to  be 
merely  proofs  of  the  wasted  energy  of  audacious  man. 
Hard  as  was  the  flinty  breast  of  Mount  Davidson,  nothing 
could  daunt  the  rugged  bosoms  of  the  wielders  of  the 
pick  and  drill,  who  were  at  least  indomitable  in  pluck  and 
manly  marrow. 

Frederick  Wyman  chuckled  softly  as  he  realized  that 
the  cabin  was  well  stocked  for  the  long  winter.  There 
were  also  funds  enough  to  keep  up  the  legal  work  till 
spring.     Devereux' s    sickness    had   enabled  Wyman,    for 


IN    GRIZZLY    CANTON.  19 

four  months,  to  hide  the  evidences  of  what  his  covetous 
heart  told  him  was  a  very  valuable  discovery.  One 
shaft  he  had  deliberately  caved  down  with  a  blast,  and 
had  securely  covered  there,  a  precious  secret  hugged  to 
his  own  heart  alone,  in  an  ^already  effected  treason  to  his 
loyal  partner!  With  his  own  hands  he  had  also  filled  up 
a  short  cross  cut,  in  the  two  hundred  foot  tunnel,  where 
an  unknown  valuable  looking  substance  had  softened  the 
sheeted  porphyry  of  the  Comstock.  Was  it  the  spur  of 
some  great  vein?  The  beads  of  perspiration  stood  out  on 
Wyman's  brow  as  he  lounged  in  the  Magnolia  saloon  and 
impatiently  watched  the  crawling  hands  of  the  saloon 
clock.  He  knew  the  viper  fangs,  of  Steve  Berard  too  well 
to  dare  to  break  in  on  the  "sheep  shearing,"  at  the 
Golden  Eagle.  For  the  polished  mahogany  butt  of  that 
navy  revolver  already  bore  several  crosses,  and  the  ulti- 
mate removal  of  Steve  Berard  himself  l '  by  violent  acci- 
dent," seemed  the  only  way  of  avoiding  in  future  an 
extension  of  that  symbolic  list. 

Mr.  Berard  was  not  over  popular  on  the  Carson  River, 
but  by  the  social  '  <  specific  gravity  "  of  the  deadly  sport, 
he  moved  unharmed  in  his  own  circles. 

The  expansion  of  this  golden  circle  by  new  arrivals,  its 
contraction  by  the  extinction  of  a  shining  light,  now  and 
then,  did  not  affect  the  <  <  honest  working  miners  ' '  who 
earned  their  five  dollars  a  day  manfully,  and  then  got 
drunk  peacefully,  or  squandered  their  wages,  without 
violence,  in  the  dance  halls  or  gambling  saloons.  The 
occasional  visits  of  the  sporting  fraternity  to  the  useful 
mercantile  circles,  were  only  due  to  the  selection  of  costly 
raiment  and  ornaments,  suited  to  either  sex,  to  the  pur- 
chase of  lethal  weapons,  or  playing  cards,  and  pistol  car- 
tridges. 


20  MISS    DEVEREL'X    OF    THE    MABIQUITA. 

Steven  Berard, Esq., and  his  prototypes,  with  undeviating 
regularity,  first  visited  the  saloon  for  the  matutinal  cock- 
tail and  cigars,  next  the  tonsorial  artist,  then  a  promenade 
en grande  tenue  was  followed  by  a  choice  dejeuner  at  some 
restaurant  affected  by  the  cosmopolitan  Aspasias  of  these 
higher  altitudes.  The  afternoon  was  devoted  to  the  social 
duties  of  exhibiting  fast  women  and  faster  trotters,  or 
else,  secluded  "poker  practice,"  led  up  to  the  gambler's 
harvest  of  the  night,  when  all  of  Virginia  City  not 
"absurdily  puritanical"  gamboled  on  the  green. 

The  absence  of  Robert  Devereux  from  the  houses  of 
play,  the  gin  mills,  and  the  dance  halls  had,  at  first,  marked 
him  as  a  stingy  curmudgeon.  But,  even  the  painted 
Phrynes  who  watched  the  careworn  miner  eagerly  await- 
ing his  weekly  San  Francisco  letters,  respected  the  man 
who  passed  his  days,  stooping,  hollow  chested,  over  the 
pick,  and  toiling  manfully  for  his  absent  ones. 

His  lonely  cabin  life  had  been  gloomy  enough  until 
Fred  Wy man's  coming  lightened  it.  Strange  to  say,  the 
egoistic  borderer  had  all  the  careless  charm  of  an  easy- 
going personal  nature.  In  long  later  years,  men,  and 
women,  too,  were  alike  to  be  doomed  to  always  take  Fred 
Wyman  for  what  he  was  not.  His  easy  pliancy  sat  lightly 
on  his  fine  brow  and  the  shifting,  glittering  eyes  wer^ 
softly  pleasing.  His  voice,  of  a  rich  varying  timbre,  was 
as  wooing  as  that  of  the  snake  charmer,  and  hardened 
men  often  turned  and  followed  the  accents  of  his  musical 
speech.  In  his  lazy  disdain  of  the  local  clamor  following 
an  act  of  violence — so  common  at  the  South — Wyman  had 
never  even  disowned  the  good  Kentucky  name  he  bore. 
He  was  safe  enough  in  the  wild  West. 

Fred  Wyman  had  chafed  sorely  under  his  two  hoarded 


IN    DRIZZLY    CANON.  21 

secrets  for  months.  Some  subtle  fascination  of  the  devil- 
ish effectiveness  of  Steve  Berard's  wickedness  drew  the 
two  together.  In  the  tawdry  bowers  of  the  Washoe 
"  Ames  damnees, "  Wyman — ever  welcome  Gentleman 
Wyman — heard  tales  of  the  subtle  viciousness  of  this  cold 
gambler,  a  master  at  all  tricks.  From  a  soft-eyed  New 
Orleans  quadroon  girl,  Wyman  had  learned  all  of  Steve 
Berard's  history.  The  creamy-faced  daughter  of  the  Mag- 
nolia land  had  marked  Berard's  dark  career  on  the  Missis- 
sippi river  steamboats,  where  he  had  used  her  as  a  stool- 
pigeon  to  entrap  the  swarthy  Louisiana  planters  and  their 
reckless,  bright-eyed  sons.  "  Mass'  Steve's  a  Past  Grand 
Master,  shuah.  He  is  the  Devil's  own,"  softly  cooed  the 
timorous  quadroon  Venus.  "But  he's  dead  game  South- 
ern blood,  and  he  will  always  fight  at  the  drop  of  a  hat!  " 
Such  was  the  admiring  yellow  girl's  verdict.  When  Fred 
Wyman  had  finished  some  object  lessons  in  poker,  and  had 
transferred  his  own  loose  change  in  yellow  twenties  to 
Professor  Steven,  with  an  easy  nonchalance,  he  said,  "See 
here,  Steve,  you  had  better  carry  my  education  on  a  little 
farther,  you  may  need  a  man  to  sit  all  night  with  you 
sometime  in  a  big  game.  Give  me  the  thirty-third 
degree." 

"By  God!  you  are  true  blue,  youngster,"  said  Berard, 
and  from  that  time  the  shadow  of  white-headed  Steve's 
wing  was  a  protecting  aegis  to  the  good-looking  young 
stranger. 

In  all  the  wild  hurly-burly  of  life  in  the  mushroom  min- 
ing camp,  Wyman  passed  in  peace  through  scenes  of  dan- 
gerous excitement.  "Friend  of  Steve's,"  was  the  word 
passed  from  gambler  to  gambler,  and  they  forbore  to  pluck 
him,  as  he  was  vaguely  supposed  to  be  a  candidate  for  the 


22  MISS    DEVEREUX    OE    THE    MARIQUITA. 

dangerous  honors  of  the  profession.  A  close  intimacy 
followed  this  secret  alliance,  and  Wyman  had  often  prof- 
ited by  the  "third  hand"  position  at  poker,  where  the 
last  man  furnished  the  "  soft  wool"  for  the  shears. 

When  the  clock  marked  twelve,  Wyman  arose  and  so 
ended  a  weary  day  with  a  copious  libation  to  Bacchus.  As 
he  strode  along  the  streets  to  the  Golden  Eagle,  he  flat- 
tered himself  at  his  prescience  and  cool  secrecy.  He  had, 
sackful  by  sackful,  secretly  carried  away  a  half  ton  of  the 
hopeful-looking  vein  matter  from  the  shaft,  and  also  a  dozen 
back  loads  from  the  now  blocked  up  cross  cut.  He  had  on 
successive  weekly  pay  days  quietly  dropped  off  all  the  men 
of  their  little  gang  who  had  worked  on  either  of-  the  two 
places  of  suspicious  interest.  His  secret  was  safe.  For 
stringers,  bits,  tantalizing  bits  of  the  rich  gold  and  silver- 
bearing  ores  were  also  often  met  with,  in  all  the  workings 
of  the  Mariquita.  Either  geologic  changes,  a  fault,  a 
slide,  a  some  forgotten  Titan  game  of  the  great  gods  now 
dead,  had  caused  these  incidental  finds  which  on  the  Corn- 
stock  brought  a  wild  hope  often  leaping  up  into  the  stout- 
est hearts. 

When  Fred  Wyman  first  around  a  saloon  stove  ex- 
hibited several  horny,  transparent-looking  lumps  from 
one  coat  pocket,  and  innocently  drew  out  three  or  four 
dark,  greasy-looking  blue  buttery  nodules  from  the  other, 
the  circle  of  phenomenal  liars  merely  laughed.  The  oldest 
miner  present  calmly  ordered  the  drinks  for  the  whole 
crowd  at  Wyman's  expense.  Every  man  carried  ore  or 
croppings  in  his  pocket  to  the  inconvenience  of  his  neces- 
sary revolver  and  bowTie  knife.  For  these,  and  a  pack  of 
"fixed"  poker  cards,  were  the  usual  toilet  articles  of  a 
"gentleman   of    Washoe,"    in    those    days.    "See    here, 


IN    GRIZZLY    CANON.  23 

Wyman,  you'll  get  shot  by  the  watchman  of  the  *  dump ' 
if  you  steal  any  more  of  the  best  *  Ophir '  ore, "  said  the 
veteran  prospector  as  he  swallowed  a  "  hot  Scotch." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Wyman  had  replied,  flushing 
hotly,  for  his  wild  southern  blood  was  not  yet  toned  up  to 
the  loaferly  familiarity  of  the  frontier  bar-room.  In  that 
easily  expanded  circle  of  loiterers,  the  last  "new-comer" 
was  the  general  butt  until  he  had  paid  his  "  scot,"  in  more 
ways  than  one. 

"See  here,  young  ^eller,  don't  get  hot,"  the  miner  re- 
torted, for  he  had  half  started  up  at  the  gleam  of  Wyman's 
eyes.  "Yer  either  a  fool  or  a  millionaire,  if  ye  didn't 
steal  that  from  the  <  Ophir '  dump.  This  yere  cheese-like 
stuff  is  horn  silver  cloride,  and  will  go  three  thousand 
dollars  to  the  ton.  That  sulphury-looking  greasy  stuff  is 
also  good  for  four  to  five  thousand.  Yer  a  fool  not  to 
know  it,"  he  laughed,  "an'  a  millionaire  if  ye've  got  the 
mine." 

It  was  Andy  Bowen's  expert  reputation  as  an  old  Swan- 
sea man,  which  caused  Fred  Wyman  to  join  gaily  in  the 
general  guffaw.  He  decided  to  good-humoredly  follow  the 
round  of  drinks  with  cigars,  and  then  to  wander  away  to 
muse  over  the  situation  with  strange  biting  thoughts  gnaw- 
ing away  at  his  heart. 

His  father,  now  a  Major-General  of  the  seemingly  thriv- 
ing Southern  Confederacy,  had  in  his  easy  way  often  in  old 
times  descanted  of  the  gilded  salons  of  the  old  world,  the 
sybaritic  delights  of  Saratoga  and  Long  Branch.  Too 
young  for  an  independent  social  record,  young  Wyman 
had  only  learned  the  more  or  less  barbaric  vices  of  Louis- 
ville, in  his  native  Kentucky,  which  were  confined  to 
an     extravagance    in    cards,    whisky   and    certain   venal 


24  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

pleasures.  His  store  of  classical  knowledge  sat  lightly  on 
him.  His  more  positive  accomplishments  of  matchless 
horsemanship,  good  rifle  shooting  and  the  usual  arts  of 
the  border  Kentuckian,  were  comparatively  useless  now. 
But,  some  low  streak  of  antenatal  cunning  caused  him 
to  paint,  in  his  vigorously  sensual  mind,  the  delights  of 
wealth,  the  power  of  gold,  the  pleasant  future  of  a  man 
of  fair  appearance,  endowed  with  an  inexhaustible  capacity 
for  all  the  practical  vices  of  young  manhood.  For  neither 
heart,  head,  conscience  nor  nerve  had  ever  failed  Fred 
Wyman  where  the  open  doors  of  pleasure  led  him  on  to 
the  delights  of  that  "passing  moment  still  so  fair." 

He  had  feared  to  be  slyly  followed,  if  he  sought  for 
other  samples  of  his  secret  ore  dump.  He  avoided  all 
future  reference  to  the  supposed  valuable  specimens.  But 
he  eagerly  studied  up  the  whole  subject,  and,  thanks  to 
Devereux's  sickness,  he  was  enabled  to  confirm  the  fair 
average  of  the  selected  deposits. 

The  whole  surface  skimming  of  the  great  treasure  vein 
had  so  far  only  opened  its  breast  a  few  hundred  feet. 
No  one  dreamed  that  men  would  toil  there,  in  later  days, 
thirty-three  hundred  feet  under  the  ground;  and  all  the  ores 
now  giving  revenue  were  in  a  transition  state  from  the 
sublimed  gold  of  the  surface,  to  the  chemically  combined 
silver  ores  of  the  great  "bonanzas."  For  they  were  as 
yet  hidden  in  the  mountain's  breast,  and  those  heirs  of 
Monte  Cristo — the  rude  Bonanza  Barons — were  all  as  poor 
as  Fred  Wyman,  and  infinitely  below  him  in  the  social 
scale.  Even  now,  James  Shinney  and  Henry  Comstock 
were  already  poor  outcasts,  looking  back  at  the  Aladdin's 
Lamp  they  had  rubbed  for  a  doubting  world.  For  they  had 
sold  a  nation's  ransom  in  milliards  for  a  mere  pittance! 


IN    GRIZZLY    <AX()N.  25 

Wyman  knew  this.  "  By  God!  No  one  shall  ever  out- 
wit me!  "  he  swore,  in  his  teeth.  It  never  occurred  to  him 
to  divide  his  assumed  knowledge  with  his  benefactor  Dev- 
ereux.  u  I  must  get  rid  of  him  someway,"  he  had  promptly 
decided)  having  no  conscience  to  wrestle  with. 

A  special  visit  of  Steve  Berard's  to  San  Francisco  en- 
abled Wyman  to  send  down  a  dozen  carefully  graded 
samples  of  each  of  the  hidden  ores  for  an  unprejudiced 
assay.  Wyman  had  hoarded  all  his  gambling  winuingsto 
pay  the  expenses  and  so  conceal  this  from  Devereux. 

His  last  remark  to  Berard  on  leaving  was  to  "  Spare  no 
expense!  "  The  romantic  story  told  to  Berard  of  an  Indian 
who  knew  where  there  was  a  mountain  of  the  deposits, 
never  imposed  for  a  single  moment  on  the  acute  gambler 
who  had  cheerfully  replied  with  the  optimism  of  his  pro- 
fessor, "Oh!  Damn  the  expense!  I'll  do  the  thing  on 
the  square." 

Mr.  Berard  was  a  chosen  delegate  of  "the  fraternity" 
to  visit  San  Francisco,  and  secretly  purvey  certain  im- 
proved "faro"  cases,  which  by  the  judicious  use  of 
concealed  springs,  enabled  the  dealer  to  produce  the 
last  three  cards  in  a  bewildering  variety  of  arranged 
sequences.  This  neat  arrangement  filled  the  faro  banker's 
heart  with  secret  joy,  his  coffers  with  gold;  and  also  oc- 
casioned untold  pyrotechnic  profanity  and  financial  heart- 
break among  those  who  "stood  up  against  the  game." 
A  rising  vote  had  allotted  Steve  Berard  a  handsome 
sum  for  "contingent  expenses,"  and  the  injunction  "  to 
have  a  good  time  "  had  followed  him,  and  had  been  obeyed 
by  their  agent  to  the  letter — to  the  "  Scarlet  Letter." 

But  Steven  had  not  forgotten  the  assays.  Even  when 
he  entered  his  rooms  at  2  o'clock  a.  m.,  this  night,  he  was 


26  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

keenly  alert  as  he  roused  up  the  sleeping  and  slightly  quarrel- 
some Wyman.  For  the  potent  Spiritus  vini  Gallici  had 
hastened  the  beating  of  the  young  fellow's  heart.  His  ugli- 
ness soon  vanished  as  Berard  genially  smiled,  and  then  emp- 
tied a  confused  mass  of  gold,  "greenbacks,"  and  .several 
checks  on  the  table,  supplementing  this  Golconda  with  a 
gold  watch  and  chain  and  a  huge  cluster  diamond  pin,  the 
]ast  then  being  a  distinctive  badge  of  the  "prosperous 
American  jackass." 

"  Hold  on,  now,  Fred!  "  grinned  Steve,  "  Don't — don't, 
/ay  boy,  say  anything  you  would  be  sorry  for."  He  softly 
Added,  "Halloran  is  sending  up  two  good  bottles  and  a 
nice  little  supper.  I  am  seventeen  thousand  dollars  to  the 
good.  That  is,  if  he  don't  stop  the  checks.  But, "  he 
thoughtfully  smiled,  "  this  fellow  can't  afford  to  'squeal.' 
His  partners  in  the  grocery  business  would  instantly 
<  bounce '  him.  I  won  all  he  had,  except  the  lady 
passenger,"  chuckled  Mr.  Berard.  "Now,  boy!"  he 
energetically  said,  as  he  handed  Frederick  Wyman  three 
sealed  envelopes  bearing  the  cabalistic  names  of  "  Kellogg 
&Heuston,"  "  Kustel  &  Riotte,"  and  "  E.  Molitor  & 
Co.,"  "there  are  your  assays!  They  gave  me  certified 
copies.  Unless  I  have  thrown  away  two  hundred  dollars, 
your  ore  goes  way  up  over  Andy  Bowen's  mark.  It  is 
very  rich." 

Wyman  sank  back  quickly  in  his  chair,  and  eagerly 
drained  a  glass  of  brandy  forced  on  him.  For  he  had 
paled  before  the  finger  of  Destiny.  Something  in  his  man- 
ner impressed  the  reckless  gambler. 

"Can  you  get  hold  of  that  mine?"  whispered  Steve 
Berard,  with  a  strange  light  gleaming  in  his  eyes. 


IN    GRIZZLY    CANON.  27 

"  If  you  will  stand  in  with  me,  Steve,"  muttered  the 
young  man,  who  had  torn  open  the  envelopes. 

"On  the  square — to  the  death!"  said  Berard,  as  the 
clink  of  champagne  bottles  was  heard  on  the  stair.  Their 
hands  met  in  a  silent  compact — to  the  death  ! 

And,  far  away,  lonely  Robert  Devereux  stirred  uneasily 
in  his  sick  bed  down  in  the  cabin  in  Grizzly  Canon. 


28  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MABIQU1TA. 


CHAPTER  II. 
Mr.   Robert  Deveeeux  Declines  a  Dbink. 

"I  have  studied  over  the  best  plan  to  hoodwink  Dever- 
eux, Fred,"  said  Steve  Berard,  a  month  later,  as  he  looked 
over  the  ashes  of  his  Cabana  at  Wyman.  They  were 
seated  in  the  safe  concealment  of  the  private  back  room 
of  the  "  Blue  Wing"  gambling  den.  Without,  the  drifted 
snows  lay  piled  deep  in  canon  and  gully,  and  thunderous 
avalanches,  which  had  slipped  down  from  the  peak  of 
Mount  Davidson,  hung  threateningly  over  Virginia  City 
buried  in  its  winter  shroud. 

The  only  sound  of  life  was  the  lazy  puffing  of  the  steam 
exhausts  down  on  the  Comstock.  Only  a  few  homeless 
outcasts  staggered  along  the  bleak  stony  mountain-side. 
Within  the  ' '  swell  "  gambling  saloon  was  that  air  of  genial 
comfort  which  is  not  unconnected  with  prosperous  vice. 
Strange  to  say,  the  children  of  Belial,  however  threaten- 
ingly the  future  may  lower  in  the  Far  Beyond,  frequently 
have  what  is  called  a  " pretty  good  time"  in  this  mundane 
sphere.  It)  is  only  a  "vale  of  tears"  for  the  painfully 
conscientious,  who  carry  their  self -allotted  burden  heavily, 
like  poor  Christian  in  that  most  estimable  book  "The 
Pilgrim's  Progress." 

But,  life  seemed  worth  living  even  on  this  dreary 
winter  afternoon  to  both  Messrs.  Wyman  and  Berard. 
The  untold  success  of  the  "deus  ex  machina"  faro  box  ar- 
rangements "  specially  imported  "  by  the  gray-eyed   gam- 


ME.    ROBERT    DEVEREUX    DECLINES    A    DRINK.  29 

bier,  had  quickly  enriched  hiin.  A  snug,  quiet  percent- 
age, weekly  rolled  into  his  pockets;  for  conversation 
would  be  awkward,  should  Steven  Berard  drop  a  single 
word  to  any  disgruntled  patron. 

The  great  strikes  of  rich  veins  on  the  Lode,  had  drawn 
new  hordes  of  liberal  moneyed  men  to  the  winter  city,  and 
leisure,  excitement,  and  fictitious  values,  made  money  roll 
easily  down  the  sides  of  Mount  Davidson,  and  all  around 
the  streets  still  clinging  to  its  precariously  rocky  breast. 
The  influx  of  politicians,  newspaper  men,  alleged  scientists, 
and  varied  adventurers  "  made  Rome  howl  ";  to  use  the 
cheerful  words  of  Andy  Bowen.  The  snugly  nested  mem- 
bers of  the  "  demi-monde  "  now  looked  askance  at  several 
really  authenticated  families. 

A  pale  faced  Priest  and  a  robust  Methodist  circuit  rider 
regularly  lifted  up  their  dissonant  voices  in  Sabbath  pray- 
ers, to  the  utter  astonishment  of  the  ungodly.  The  school 
bell  clanged  out  daily,  and  on  Sundays  it  called  to  church, 
with  occasional  odd  jobs  as  a  fire  alarm.  When  it  was 
"  packed  in  "  with  some  ceremony,  its  usefulness  in  tapping 
for  the  Vigilantes  of  the  future  was  dimly  hinted  at.  The 
bounding  pulses  of  life  throbbed  freshly  now  along  the 
Comstock,  and  even  upstart  wealth  began  to  show  its 
ambitious  head.  As  yet,  Virginia  City  had  thrown  out  no 
dazzling  meteoric  representative  in  the  Senate,  in  the  gay 
circles  of  Paris,  or  in  the  finance  baronies  of  the  world's 
Plutus  disciples.  Nevada  was  as  yet  only  a  Territory, 
but  the  "truly  loyal,"  yearned  to  have  its  baby  star  sparkle 
on  the  flag  which  drooped  so  sadly  now  over  the  butchered 
thousands  of   Fredericksburg  and  Stone  River. 

"Let's  have  your  plan,  Steve, "  said  Wyman,  thought- 
fullv.      "This  town  is  getting  pretty  lively  now.     With 


30  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

the  impending  elections,  the  winter  racket  here,  and 
the  fevered  stock  craze  at  San  Francisco,  there  may  be  any 
day  some  big  upheaval  here.  I  have  tried  to  get  Devereux 
to  go  down  this  winter  to  that  wife  of  his  who  is  always 
snivelling  for  him.  Then,  we  could  examine  the  shaft  and 
tunnel  in  peace.  But  he  sticks.  He  is  useless  here.  He 
8 wears  that  he  will  be  better  in  the  spring,  and  then,  able 
to  take  the  whole  management.  That  will  spoil  our  plans. 
He  might  soon  blunder  on  the  truth. " 

* '  Whited-headed  Steve' '  eyed  the  speaker  keenly.  "  Sup- 
pose that  I  let  you  have  enough  ready  money  now  to  tempt 
him  to  go  down  to  San  Francisco  and  rest  there  till  the 
weather  is  warmer?  "  Berard  jingled  his  pockets,  in  a  com- 
fortable mood. 

"Ah!  No,  Steve,"  replied  Wyman.  "I  could  not  ex- 
plain to  him,  where  or  how  I  got  it.  No  one  would  hon- 
estly advance  anything  on  my  interest,  and  he  knows  that 
I  can  get  nothing  now  from  home.  All  is  war  and  tumult. 
The  old  gentleman  may  be  in  Cincinnati  even  now,  if  Gen- 
eral Bragg  only  has  the  nerve. "  The  two  plotting  scoun- 
drels then  drank  to  the  "  C.  S.  A."  in  an  honest  sentiment 
of  sectional  pride,  for  the  "Stars  and  Bars  "  soared  high. 

"Then,  my  boy,"  cautiously  said  Berard,  "as this  fool, 
Devereux,  seems  so  dead  set  on  watching  the  mine,  all  we 
can  do  is  to  lure  him  away  for  a  couple  of  months.  I  have 
a  «  dead  square '  friend — old  man  Holman — down  on  the 
Carson  river.  His  ranch  is  only  five  miles  from  Carson 
City,  and,  by  Jinks,  its  the  only  homelike  place  in  Washoe. 
He's  under  some  considerable  obligations  to  me.  Now,  if 
Devereux  won't  cross  the  Sierras,  then  try  and  get  him  to 
go  down  there  for  a  few  weeks.  He  can  have  woman 
nursing,  and  milk  and  eggs,  and  honey  and  chickens  down 


MR.    ROBERT   DEVEREUX   DECLINES    A   DRINK.  31 

there.  Holuian  has  got  four  wives  tucked  away  there. 
He  is  one  of  the  first  fellows  that  Brigham  Young  sent 
over  here  in  '48.  Sensible  old  boy!  While  his  party 
scratched  around  after  a  little  surface  gold  they  found, 
he  took  up  three  thousand  acres  of  the  Carson  valley. 
His  hay  and  stock,  trading  with  the  government  and 
the  emigrants  have  made  him  solidly  rich.  So  rich  that 
when  silver  was  discovered  here  in  '59,  he  only  laughed. 
I've  kept  away  from  your  partner,  and  he  does  not  even 
know  me  by  sight.  You  tell  me  he's  a  sort  of  a  home 
fellow,  a  kind  of  book  man." 

' 'Yes,"  said  Wyman.  "He  was  manager  of  a  bank  in 
Massachusetts.  He  got  involved  in  some  way.  He's  a 
spirited  fellow,  but  weak  at  heart.  He  came  over  here 
under  a  sort  of  a  cloud.  I  fancy  his  wife  is  a  peg  or  two 
above  him  in  nerve  and  stamina." 

'  •  Then  he'll  be  good  company  for  old  man  Holman's 
long-legged  Mormon  girls.  They're  always  begging  books 
and  spouting  poetry,"  replied  the  gambler. 

"Can  you  depend  on  Holman?"  eagerly  said  Wyman. 

"I  should  smile,"  gaily  replied  Steve.  "You  see 
Brown,  'Killer  Brown,' makes  his  headquarters  there.  He 
keeps  all  his  fast  horses  in  old  Holman's  care.  BrOwn  is 
solid  with  'the  boys,'  and  he  is  a  game  friend  of  mine. 
You  see,"  continued  Berard  reflectively,  "Just  after  you 
came  here,  some  '  Smart  Aleck  '  around  Carson  ran  away 
with  Holman's  prettiest  Mormon  daughter.  These  gals 
are  just  as  romantic  and  as  high-blooded  here  as  your  South- 
ern beauties.  I  suppose  it's  loneliness,  and  the  climate," 
Berard  leered  in  a  secret  joy. 

"What  did  you  do?"  languidly  asked  Fred,  his  ears 
tingling  at  the  mention  of  the  "gang  of  pretty  Mormon 
girls." 


32  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

' '  Oh,  I  followed  them.  You  .see  the  chap  wanted  to  get 
to  Truckee  and  get  a  parson,  and  marry  the  girl  there  over 
the  California'  line.  But  I  caught  him  at  Reno,  and  put  a 
ball  into  him,  and  brought  the  girl  back.  So  old  man 
Holman  is  my  friend  for  life." 

"Did  you  have  any  trouble?"  said  Wyman,  with  a 
slight  shiver  at  Berard's  perfect  unconcern. 

"Not  a  bit,"  cheerfully  said  Steve,  taking  a  good 
" three  finger "  drink.  "The  old  man  is  Justice  of  the 
Peace,  and  he  discharged  me  'on  my  own  recognizance,' — 
self  defense.  There  was  no  one  but  the  gal  there  to 
look  on,"  simply  concluded  the  cold-blooded  murderer. 

"What  did  he  do  with  the  girl?"  said  Fred. 

"  Oh,  I  saw  her,  white-faced  and  peaked  enough,  loaded 
into  an  emigrant  wagon,  to  be  dumped  out  at  the  'Endow- 
ment House'  in  Salt  Lake.  Some  one  of  the  Bishops  was 
ready  to  marry  her — seal  her.  They're  a  closer  corpora- 
tion even  than  us  sporting  men,"  said  Steve,  laughing, 
"She's  saved  from  hell  by  this  time." 

"But,  Devereux  might  leave  there  without  our  know- 
ing it  and  catch  us  at  our  sly  work.  He  would  be  aston- 
ished to  find  you  down  in  the  shaft  or  tunnel.  It  would 
be  a  'dead  give  away,'"  objected  Wyman,  doubtfully. 

"He  will  never  leave  there  without  old  man  Holman 
knowing  it,"  replied  Steve,  coldly.  "  I  will  run  down 
myself  once  or  twice,  and,  if  he  tried  to  sneak  up  here,  he 
would  be  stopped  on  the  road,  sure  enough. " 

There  was  a  cruel  ring  in  the  gambler's  voice.  He  saw 
Wyman 's  air  of  astonishment.  "Nonsense,  boy,  if  you 
are  going  to  play  for  a  million,  you  need  some  nerve — 
nerve  first  and  last.  Now,  you  have  pluck  enough, 
but  no  nerve  yet.    It  will  come  with  a  sporting  life.  Now 


MR.    ROBERT    DEVEREUX   DECLINES    A   DRINK.  33 

Holman's  ranch  is  only  a  death  trap  for  any  outsider.  The 
old  man  is  one  of  '  Slade's  '  gang.  I  am  too.  And  a  man 
who  has  our  pass  word  is  safe  from  the  Indian  Territory 
to  Boise  City,  or  from  Fort  Badger  to  Tucson.  All  the 
fancy  stolen  stock  on  the  plains  is  handled  by  these  fel- 
lows, who  all  understand  each  other.  And  <  Bise '  Mc- 
Lean, in  No  Man's  Land,  is  the  king   of  the  South,  while 

<  Slade  '  is  king  of  the  North.'" 

"  Who  is  this  McLean?  "  curiously  said  Wyman. 
"Oh,    he's  a  wild  young   Texan,  who   ran  away  from 
West   Point    after   knifing   a   fellow    cadet.       Pity,  too; 

<  Bison  '  was  smart.  He  would  have  been  an  army  officer  in 
six  months.  They  called  him  'Bison'  because  he  was 
covered,  body  and  all,  with  soft,  shaggy,  thick  hair.  He 
now  leads  the  war  parties  of  the  Apaches  and  Comanches." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  go  hard  with  him  if  the  regu- 
lar army  ever  catches  him,"  moodily  said  Wyman,  who 
had  winced  under  the  ugly  word  "knifing." 

"His  own  classmates  have  sworn  to  burn  him  alive  if 
they  ever  catch  him,  and  he  has  already  killed  two  of 
them  in  open  single  fight.  He's  a  born  devil  is  'Bise' 
McLean.  The  only  army  officer  who  ever  deserted  to  the 
Indians." 

"  Your  recommendation  of  Hoi  man  is  a  solid  one,"  said 
Wyman,  who  began  to  divine  Berard's  dark  purpose  in 
cooping  up  the  sick  man  in  the  Mormon  rancher's  den  of 
death — a  robber's  nest. 

"Tell  me  of  Devereux's  girl,"  carelessly  said  Berard, 
his  gray  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  the  young  man.  "How  old 
is  she?" 

"Oh!  she's  now  a  handsome,  likely  child  of  eight  or 
nine  years.     She  looks  to  have  the  mother's  grit  from  her 


34  MISS    DEVEREUX    OP    THE    MARIQUITA. 

picture.  The  wife  is  half  supporting  herself  as  a  costumer 
for  one  of  the  big  variety  theaters  in  San  Francisco,  the 
"Bella  Union,"  I  think.  I  suppose  she  has  given  up  all 
hopes  of  fortune.  She  wants  Devereux  to  come  down  and 
take  a  permanent  place  in  some  'Frisco  office,  and  try  and 
make  a  little  home. " 

"Ah!"  ejaculated  Berard,  with  a  deep  drawn  breath. 
"Couldn't  we  buy  the  fool  out?  I  don't  mind  risking  a 
few  thousands. " 

"Steve!"  earnestly  said  Wyman.  "This  fellow  is  really 
silver  mad.  I  don't  know  if  it  is  second  sight.  Perhaps 
the  nervous  sensitiveness  of  his  illness.  He  swears  we've 
really  got  a  mine;  and  he  swears  he  will  never  leave  it 
alive.     He  does." 

"There  he  is  mistaken,  my  boy, "  said  Berard,  rising 
with  a  cruel  flash  of  his  eyes.  < '  He  will  leave  it  alive,  but 
he  won't  come  back  to  it,  unless  he  can  fly." 

Finishing  the  brandy  bottle  at  a  gulp,  Steve  Berard's 
eyes  gleamed  yellow,  as  he  said,  "  Now  I'll  get  old  man 
Holman  to  write  to  Devereux  to  come  down  and  talk  over 
the  purchase  of  an  interest.  You  <  lay  low,'  and  leave  it  all 
to  me.  Holman  will  delay  him  and  keep  him  on  there. 
The  women  will  all  coddle  him.  They  have  to  do  just  what 
the  old  man  says.  By  God!"  cried  Berard,  forgetting 
his  professional  coolness,  "Mormon  women  never  kick. 
They  are  as  gentle  as  lambs.  They've  got  to  be.  No  airs. 
Not  an  air.  It's  only  the  young  brood  who  cast  sheep's  eyes 
at  the  good-looking  young  Gentiles.  Bat,  the  Danites  have 
already  laid  out  a  few  dozen  of  those  love-sick  Gentile  fools. 
It  ain't  healthy.  I'd  sooner  run  off  with  a  Pawnee  chiefs 
wife  or  a  Sioux  war  chief's  sister  from  a  crowded  camp 
than  fool  with   a  Mormon    girl.     These  Mormon    fellows 


MR.    ROBERT    DEVEREUX    DECLINES    A    DRINK.  35 

are  scattered  along  on  the  road  with  their  station  ranches, 
from  Idaho  to  Arizona  and  from  San  Bernardino  away  to 
Denver.  They  are  a  'cold  deck.'  Tell  me,  when  does  the 
delegate  election  occur? "  Berard  was  idly  fingering  his 
navy  revolver. 

"In  three  months,"  slowly  said  Wyman.  "The  terri- 
tory was  admitted  in  March, '61.  They  want  to  get  it  in  as 
a  state  by  '64,  to  give  Abe  Lincoln  two  more  war  Senators." 
"That'll  be  a  good  time  to  do  it,"  mused  Berard,  as  he 
shoved  his  revolver  back  into  its  sheath,  and  then  busied 
himself  getting  ready  for  an  outing  to  inspect  the  half 
dozen  faro  games  he  was  now  interested  in. 

"To  do  what?"  cried  the  startled  young  borderer. 
Mr.  Steven  Berard  turned  back  from  the  door.  "To 
put  the  damned  fool  out  of  the  way,  if  you  can  prove  to  me 
you  have  got  this  ore  vein  in  that  mine.  If  he  knew  what 
was  good  for  him  he  would  foot  it  to  San  Francisco  the 
whole  hundred  and  eighty  miles,  and  not  growl  at  the 
Truckee  trail,  either.  I  suppose  we  are  to  have  an  even 
interest,  Fred,  counting  the  whole  mine?" 

"Yes,  yes!"  eagerly  cried  the  excited  Wyman.  "But 
who  is  to  do  it?"  The  young  fellow's  voice  was  quivering 
in  the  thrill  of  a  first  deliberately  plotted  crime. 

"You  will  see,"  sententiously  remarked  Berard,  as  he 
filled  his  cigar  case.  "  Look  here,  Fred,  if  you  pull  off  a 
big  stake  here,  what  will  you  do?  You  can't  go  back 
South  as  an  alien  enemy.  You  couldn't  hold  title  here 
now  under  the  devilish  Yankee  iron-clad  laws.  We  must 
get  the  title  and  records  fixed  all  O.  K.  after  he  is  done 
up,"  seriously  ruminated  Berard,  with  a  business  air. 

"I  shall  never  go  back  South,  Steve,"  answered  the 
youth,  gazing  complacently  at  himself  in  a  twisted  sheet 


36  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MABIQUITA. 

looking-glass.  "  If  I  do  get  money,  I  will  have  my  fling 
in  Europe  first,  then  marry  into  some  big  family  oat  here 
and  settle  down.  This  coast  will  be  a  great  section  yet 
for  style  and  luxury." 

Berard  smiled,  but  he  grew  attentive  as  Wyman  con- 
tinued, "  I  have  watched  the  metal  here  change  as  the 
mines  are  sunk,  from  three-quarters  gold  to  three-quarters 
silver.  Now,  Steve,  big,  deep  silver  mining  is  a  very  sci- 
entific affair.  There'll  be  a  systematic  hollowing  out  of 
this  magic  mountain.  Millions  will  go  into  machinery,  a 
great  city  and  railroads  will  be  here.  If  Abe  Lincoln 
holds  America  together  they  will  push  the  railroad  on  east 
over  the  plains.  There  will  be  place,  power,  and  a  high- 
toned  money  society.  I  want  to  get  right  into  it  at  the 
top.  That's  my  plan."  Wyman's  tongue  ran  on  in  rosy 
anticipation. 

* '  And  so  you  will  build  up  your  house  of  life  on  your  first 
partner's  bones,"  sneered  Steve  Berard.  "  Well  he's  a  fool 
and  a  Yankee, anyway, but  it's  mighty  rough  on  the  woman! 
Still,  if  he  won't  get  out  of  the  way,  we've  got  to  put  his 
light  out."  Berard  was  brisk  and  quietly  cheerful  in  his 
manner. 

"  Steve,"  faltered  the  young  dreamer,  "you  must  not 
connect  me  with  the — the — " 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  roughly  cried  tne  gambler.  "  There's 
your  damned  lack  of  nerve.  You  are  ready  for  the  spoils, 
but  you  want  to  be  held  safe.  I  tell  you  again,  you've 
got  no  nerve.  Now,  keep  your  eyes  open  and  boost  him 
off  cheerfully  when  Holman's  letter  comes.  He  will  have 
it  in  four  days.  Then  come  to  me  at  once;  till  then,  keep 
dark.  I  must  be  very  careful.  First,  to  see  if  you've 
really  got  this  rich  pay  ore." 


MK.    ROBERT    DEVEREUX    DECLINES    A    DRINK.  37 

"  It's  five  feet  thick  in  the  shaft,  and  I  cross  cut  it  eleven 
feet  in  the  tunnel,"  eagerly  cried  the  youth. 

"  All  right  then.  It's  a  'whack,'"  answered  the  gam- 
bler. "I'll  have  to  be  sly.  I  may  have  some  one  else  do 
it,  or  else  pick  a  quarrel  on  politics.  I'll  work  him  off 
sure  enough.  Now,  remember!  "  and  Mr.  Steven  Berard 
walked  away,  unconcernedly  whistling,  "Dixie's  Land." 

Fred  Wyman's  face  was  blanched  as  he  rode  down  to 
the  shades  of  Grizzly  Canon  to  meet  the  sick  man  who 
trusted  him,  his  partner,  to  the  last,  the  very  last. 

"What  a  cold-hearted  young  brute  that  Wyman  is," 
mused  Steve  Berard,  as  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  to  the  front 
between  the  nervously  pointed  ears  of  a  fine  trotter  that 
evening.  A  sleigh  dash  of  ten  miles  to  the  Five  Mile 
House  and  return,  cleared  the  card  sharper's  brain  for  his 
evenino-  devotions  to  Fortuna.      "  If  the  vein  is  there,  we 

o 

will  have  all  the  money  we  want,  and  I'm  glad  to  have 
the  thing  come  off  down  at  Carson." 

Mr.  Berard  noticed  as  he  drove  back  along  C  street 
several  knots  of  earnest  looking  men  eagerly  eying  his 
great  roan  trotter.  He  never  fancied  that  they  objected 
to  the  carmine-cheeked,  mouse-eyed  little  French  queen  of 
Faro  at  his  side.  But,  even  cool  gray-eyed  sports  can 
miss  a  trick,  now  and  then. 

A  peculiarly  atrocious  murder  caused  by  a  quarrel  over 
this  very  woman  had  caused  the  quick  sprouting  of  that 
fern  seed  of  magic  power  which  at  last  bringeth  out 
the  "  Regulator,"  the  "Vigilante,"  the  "  Committee  of 
Safety,"  and  other  sturdy  step-children  of  "  Judge  Lynch." 

Steve  Berard  was  still  unaware  of  the  crystallization  of  a 
certain  determined  feeling  in  Virginia  City  that  certain 
dark  fruit  was  ripening  soon  to  dangle  from  telegraph  pole 


38  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

or  mining  hoist  frame,  with  that  peculiarly  uneasy  twist- 
ing of  the  eccentrically  knotted  hangman's  rope,  when 
Andy  Bowen  good-humoredly  remarked,  * '  Steve,  you 
sports  ought  not  to  shear  the  boys  too  close,  and  be  too 
free  with  the  knife  and  pistol.  A  mining  crowd  is  an 
ugly  one  sometimes."  Steve  had  only  shown  the  faint 
wintry  gleam  of  the  gambler's  smile,  "  Andy,"  he  said 
quietly,  "  when  the  tidal  wave  of  reform  strikes  this  here 
camp,  I  will  be  over  the  hill  and  far  away.  I  know  just 
how  high  a  telegraph  pole  is,  and  I  never  yet  have  worn 
out  my  welcome.     Let's  all  have  a  drink." 

In  the  lofty  attitude  of  the  Comstock,  "  a  drink  "  punc- 
tuated all  social  meetings,  with  its  staccato  ejaculation 
"How!"  Equally  fit  for  wake,  funeral,  christening  or 
wedding;  the  first  hailing  sign  of  friendship,  the  last  sigh 
of  regret,  the  "drink"  was  the  smallest  current  gold  coin 
amity,  and  a  legal  tender  never  to  be  refused.  Certain 
grave  public  functions  might  defer  the  solemnity,  but 
moral  insanity,  or  rooted  hatred  alone,  explained  a  decli- 
nation. To  the  shaggy-breasted  giants  of  the  Comstock, 
a  deliberate  refusal  was,  if  public,  and  premeditated,  the 
cut  direct,  and  the  one  unpardonable  sin.  A  lurid  mist  of 
uncertain  but  bloody  chronological  anecdotes  hovered 
around  the  memories  of  ill-starred  men,  cut  off  in  their 
prime,  who  had  blundered  upon  their  doom.  Some  local 
regret  still  clings  to  the  virginal  name  of  a  strayed  theolog- 
ical student,  whose  mild  but  positive  declination  had  been 
the  "deep  damnation"  of  his  sudden  taking  off.  Alas!  His 
firmness  of  moral  principle  was  mistaken  for  that  un- 
seemly pride  which  goeth  before  a  fall — and  it  was  treated 
accordingly. 

The  fact  of  a   general    subscription   for   a   railing   and 


MR.    ROBERT    DEVEREUX    DECLINES    A    DRINK.  39 

wooden  cenotaph  to  mark  the  spot  where  the  lost  lamb 
had  lain,  until  removed  eastwardly,  showed  a  general 
good-humored  regret.  The  spread-eagle,  in  the  national 
colors,  with  a  neat  label,  "We  mourn  his  loss,"  was  a 
credit  to  the  sign  painter,  who  had  just  illuminated  Vir- 
ginia City's  one-hand  fire  engine,  with  a  somewhat  sim- 
ilar device— other  words,  but  the  same  stencilled  eagle! 

While  Steve  Berard  lived  easily  on  the  involuntary  con- 
tributions of  the  "  patent  faro  box  "  victims,  Mr.  Freder- 
ick Wyman  shared  not  the  social  public  diversions  of  his 
friend.  Somewhat  in  Berard's  debt,  Wyman  could  not 
afford  to  share  his  expensive  pleasures.  He  now  avoided 
all  public  association  with  the  "  sport"  element,  and  in 
the  days  following  the  interview,  when  the  trapping  of 
Devereux  was  arranged,  the  borderer  clung  closely  to  the 
cabin  in  Grizzly  Canon.  With  the  aversion  of  a  south- 
erner to  all  menial  hand  labor,  Wyman  revolted  at  the 
simple  personal  care  devolving  on  him  of  a  fortnightly 
effort  at  his  own  laundry  work.  But  it  was  painfully 
achieved  at  the  side  of  the  nearest  brook,  and  with  the 
aid   of  the  faintly  gleaming  winter  sun. 

Standing  there,  one  day,  watching  his  coarse  jerkins  and 
canvas  overalls  waving  in  the  Mount  Davidson  zephyrs, 
Wyman  started  as  Devereux  called  him  back  into  the 
cabin.  For  a  friendly  passer-by  had  thrown  in  at  the 
open  door  a  couple  of  letters. 

Wyman  eyed  his  sickly  querulous  partner  with  an  ill- 
concealed  disgust,  as  he  joined  him  at  the  rough  table. 
The  mean  interior  of  the  cabin  had  never  looked  so 
shabby  to  the  son  of  an  easy  slave-owning  planter.  A 
few  cast-off  tin  meat  cases,  some  emptied  boxes,  buckets 
improvised    from    kerosene    cans,     the     walls     covered 


40  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE   MARIQUITA. 

with  gaudy  prints  cut  from  the  "illustrated"  weeklies, 
the  smoke  grimed  ceiling  and  clay  floor  recalled  the  hovels 
of  the  "poor  white  trash"  he  had  often  seen  in  Arkansas. 
He  only  missed  the  coon  skins  nailed  against  the  doors 
for  sun  curing,  and  the  squalid  children. 

"Curse  this  rocky  wilderness!"  he  muttered.  "A  rac- 
coon has  too  much  native  sense  to  stay  here."  And,  the 
young  man  cast  longing  glances  at  the  far  dim  Sierras, 
towering  far  away  in  the  crystal  air. 

Far  beyond  their  summits,  yet  less  than  two  hundred 
miles,  lay  San  Francisco,  with  its  hastily  thrown  together 
mansions,  where  bright  eyes  gleamed  over  whitest  bosoms, 
passionately  heaving  in  life  and  love.  There  jewels 
gleamed;  the  rich  laughter  of  women  rang  out — not  the 
painted  mechanical  puppets  of  the  tawdry  dance  halls — but 
women  worth  the  winning.  There,  the  boards  groaned 
under  feasts  glittering  in  silver  and  crystal.  Far-off  music 
seemed  to  haunt  his  dulled  ears;  the  waving  forms  of  the 
beauties  in  the  dance,  the  glitter  of  high  life — real  life — 
not  the  every  day  realistic  drudgery  of  the  adventurer,  not 
the  occasional  debauch  of  the  idle  worker,  all  charmed  him. 
He  yearned  for  the  smooth  and  easy  path  where  roses 
smiled  around  the  trail  of  the  softly  sliding  serpent  of 
Pleasure. 

"I  am  going  to  leave  you,  Fred;  that  is,  for  a  few  days, 
or  even  weeks,"  said  Devereux,  with  the  hesitating,  ambi- 
tionless  voice  of  a  man  dragged  down  by  ague's  gnawing. 
* '  I  have  received  an  offer  for  an  interest  in  the  mine.  A 
man  named  Holman,  down  near  Carson,  writes  me  and  he 
wants  to  see  me.  Can  you  get  along  without  me  here  for 
a  little  while?" 

Wyman's  heart  beat  like  a  trip  hammer,  and  he  turned 


MR.    ROBERT   DEVEREUX   DECLINES   A   DRINK.  41 

away  his  head  to  hide  a  crimson  flush  of  physical  shame; 
for  the  poor  bird  was  fluttering  along  into  the  snare. 
"  Well!  If  you  must  go,  I  suppose  you  must!"  indeci- 
sively rejoined  Wyman,  busying  himself  with  his  pipe.  "I 
can  hold  on  to  the  mine,  and  keep  up  the  twenty  days 
work  in  every  three  months.  It  may  do  you  good. 
Where  is  this  man's  place,  do  you  say?  "  He  turned  away 
to  hide  his  joy. 

"Near  Carson  City,"  answered  Devereux,  in  a  sickly 
monotone.  "He  says  that  I  can  pick  up  a  bit  there,  as  he 
has  a  homelike  place;  and  there  are  women  there,  too,  of 
his  family.  What  do  you  say?  Shall  I  write  him  that  I 
will  come?  "  The  man's  fate  was  trembling  in  the  balance. 
"You  might  as  well  go  down  on  the  stage  to-morrow, 
and  you  would  beat  your  own  letter  in  schedule  time.  I'm 
going  up  to  the  <  burg,'  and  I'll  hold  you  a  place  in  the 
stage,"  said  Wyman. 

"All  right,"  replied  his  partner.  "  Do  you  wish  to  sell 
any  of  your  own  quarter  interest?  "  Wyman  started.  He 
was  taken  by  surprise.  After  a  few  moments,  he  answered, 
sullenly: 

"No.  If  we  don't  strike  it  in  the  Mariquita,  then  I'll 
work  my  way  back  East  over  the  Sierras,  and  give  it  up. 
But  111  stay  on  here  and  take  care  of  your  interest." 

That  night,  while  Robert  Devereux  stirred  uneasily  in 
his  rough  couch,  as  a  crackling  back  log  threw  out  its 
shower  of  sparks  in  its  sudden  fall,  or  when,  flushed  with 
fever,  he  drained  the  can  of  cool  water,  brought  by  the 
poor  old  Indian,  who  watched  his  fevered  moanings  when 
the  "  spell"  was  on,  Steve  Berard  and  Frederick  Wyman 
perfected  all  their  final  arrangements  for  "  taking  care  of 
his  interest." 

"Get  him  off  in  good  shape,  Fred,"  soothingly  said 
Berard,  as  they   parted,  for  a  late    faro   game    was  on. 


42  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

"  Find  out  where  he  keeps  all  his  papers  and  things.    Don't 
let  him  stow  any  ugly  reminders  away  around  the  cabin. " 

"Oh!  He'll  take  all  down  there  with  him,"  answered 
the  younger  villain.  "Then  I'll  get  everything,  right 
enough." 

"Holmanwill  look  out  for  that,"  remarked  Berard, 
cheerfully,  as  he  added:  "When  he  is  safely  picketed  out 
to  grass  there,  I  will  give  you  the  word.  Then,  you  and 
I  will  go  through  the  mine,  in  short  order." 

"  And,  if  we  find  what  I  know  is  there,"  eagerly  whis- 
pered Wyman,  "  you  make  it  a  sure  thing  for  me — and — 
I'll  make  the  other  a  dead  cold  game. 

"And,  no  talk,  either,"  answered  Berard. 

In  the  wintry  gray  of  the  ensuing  morning,  Robert 
Devereux  leaned  out  of  the  window  of  the  stage  coach, 
and  feebly  waved  his  hand  to  his  stalwart  young  partner, 
standing  on  the  platform  of  the  Magnolia  saloon.  For, 
with  a  deft  eccentric  curve,  and  a  fusillade  of  crackling 
oaths,  the  driver  tooled  his  "scratch"  team  out  of  the 
stable  yard  to  the  straight  run  out  of  town. 

"Fred's  a  good  fellow,  true,  staunch;  and  I  am  safe  in 
his  hands,"  mused  Devereux,  as  his  wearied  head  sank 
back  against  the  leather  cushions  in  the  stage.  He  fell  into 
a  sleep  of  exhaustion,  and  he  missed  the  last  view  of 
gloomy  Grizzly  Canon  from  the  divide  near  Gold  Hill,  as 
it  lay  silent  there  in  the  shadow,  under  the  rocky  knobs  of 
outcroppings  marking  the  fancied  course  of  the  metal- 
bearing  veins  of  the  "  Mariquita. "  There  was  nothing  to 
call  him  back  to  the  squalor  and  misery  he  left  behind. 
But  Hope  with  rosy  fingers  pointed  onward  to  Holman's 
ranch,  and  a  dim  undercurrent  of  cheerful  imaginings  fol- 
lowed the  jingle  of  the  rattling  trace  chains.  The  sleeper 
only  heard  the  rattle  of  golden  coins.  A  portion  of  his 
interest  marketed,  with  ready  money,  then,  a  few  months 


MR.    ROBERT    DEVEREUX    DECLINES    A    DRINK.  43 

with  the  brave,  bright-eyed  wife  in  far  San  Francisco,  and 
the  merry  child,  whose  sweet,  loving  face  he  only  saw  in 
his  dreams. 

Fred  Wyman  turned  away  with  a  sneer,  as  the  stage 
swept  around  a  huge  rocky  promontory,  and  his  partner 
was  swallowed  up  in  its  overhanging  shadows.  "There 
goes  a  man  who  is  a  mere  slave  of  an  absent  woman's  will. 
A  poor,  nervous  driveller.  No  woman  will  ever  make  a 
fool  of  me. "  Secure  in  the  complacency  of  the  bright 
armor  of  his  youth,  Wyman  drank  to  his  own  reflection  in 
the  saloon  mirror,  and  then  sauntered  away  to  report  to 
Berard,  who  was  "  lying  perdu,"  for  this  day. 

"I  will  have  all  ready  for  you,  Steve,"  said  the  now 
eager  traitor.  "  Old  Captain  Johnson  shall  keep  watch 
over  the  tunnel  and  shaft.  I  can  easily  show  you  what 
you  wish  to  verify  in  a  couple  of  nights'  secret  work.  Day 
and  night  are  the  same  down  there  in  those  holes." 

"All  right!  I'm  your  man,"  replied  the  laconic  Berard. 
"  Stay  down  below  until  I  get  word  from  old  Holman. 
Brown  goes  down  to-morrow,  and  Holman  then  gets  the 
private  tip  to  keep  Devereux  there.  I  will  never  show 
up  at  the  Ranch  unless  I  happen  along  by  mere  accident." 

The  cold  shivers  were  chasing  each  other  along  the  spinal 
nerves  of  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman,  as  he  quickly  walked 
away  with  a  nod  of  humble  obedience.  These  necessary 
practical  details  of  a  crime  atrociously  planned  in  cool 
mental  deviltry  startled  Wyman,  who  was  shyer  than  the 
poor  girl,  stealing  with  strangely  flaming  eyes,  to  a  first 
rendezvous.  But  his.  mean,  egoistic,  callous  and  selfish 
heart  had  coldly  abandoned  to  his  fate  the  man  for  whom 
mother  and  child  were  now  praying  on  their  knees  that 
night  by  the  stormy  San  Francisco  Bay. 

"1  fancy  Berard  is  right,"  muttered  Wyman,  as  he 
picked  his  way  down  Grizzly  Canon.     He  seemed  to  fear 


44  MISS   DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

even  the  dark  shadows  now.  "  I  have  the  heart,  the 
pluck  at  last,  but  I  am  not  sure  of  my  nerve,"  he  mur- 
mured; "that's  what  Steve  says."  Keeping  even  the 
'poor  old  Indian  in  sight  as  a  lay  figure  to  ward  off  dark 
and  haunting  thoughts,  Wynian  could  not  realize  that  he 
only  needed  success,  the  vulgar  but  concrete  power  of 
money,  to  change  him  into  an  insolent  bully.  He  needed 
but  the  crushing  force  of  the  golden  hammer  to  drive  in 
the  hall-mark  of  his  smiling,  insincere  face  upon  the  pinch- 
beck metal  of  the  gilded  society  of  the  West.  "  If  we  only 
strike  it,  I  will  show  them  what  I  can  do,"  the  vain 
plotter  proudly  dreamed,  as  he  contemplated  the  graceful 
outlines  of  his  own  shadow.  "  Once  up  there  among  the 
swells,  I  am  as  good  as  any  of  the  Californian  quality. 
They  all  lack  background,  and  a  verified  history."  The 
sneer  was  lost  on  the  wild  winds  wailing  down  Grizzly 
Canon,  while  Robert  Devereux  lingered  far  away  in 
wonder  at  the  cordial  welcome  of  the  oily  Mormon 
ranchero  and  his  passively  obedient  sad-eyed  womanhood. 

"  He  even  doubts  me!"  ruminated  Wynian,  a  week  later, 
as  Berard,  in  the  gray  dawn,  loaded  his  strong  saddle  horse, 
hidden  behind  the  cabin  in  Grizzly  Canon,  with  the  last 
saddle-bag's  burden  of  selected  samples  from  shaft  and 
tunnel.  For  hours,  Wynian  had  watched  the  lithe  gam- 
bler burrowing  in  the  exposed  masses  of  the  crumbling 
chloride,  or  eagerly  scooping  out  with  his  hand  the  rich, 
fat  sulphides  crumbling  under  the  blows  of  a  short  miner's 
pick. 

"You  can  work  like  ahorse,  Steve,"  admiringly  re- 
marked the  young  man. 

"So  I  can,  so  I  could,  so  I  used  to  in  Missouri;  but 
hard  work  and  I  have  parted  company  forever,"  the  gam- 
bler shortly  answered. 

Eagle-eyed,  nervous,  suspicious,  the  arch  villain  buried 


MK.    ROBERT   DEVEREUX   DECLINES    A   DRINK.  45 

himself  in  the  little  drifts  and  cross-cuts  made  by  his  own 
toiling  hands. 

"This  is  my  deal,  Fred,"  he  laconically  remarked, 
"  and  no  man  shuffles  the  cards  without  my  having  a  cut." 

On  the  last  morning  of  the  secret  exploration,  he  turned 
at  last  sharply  and  faced  Wyman:  "See  here,  Fred, 
there's  lots  of  this  stuff.  I'm  satisfied  of  that.  I  have 
locked  up  all  I  have  taken,  and  I  will  now  have  it  privately 
worked  over  for  the  last  time.  Now,  if  the  assays  come 
out  all  right,  I'll  back  you  through  thick  and  thin,  and 
we  will  get  this  mine  into  our  hands,  even  interests,  mind 
you.  But  I  will  send  a  friend  down  here  to  watch  for  me. 
I  do  not  want  you  to  come  to  town,  to  go  near  the  mine 
myself,  or  to  open  a  letter  or  telegram  till  I  tell  you  to 
come  up  to  town.  I'll  send  you  down  all  the  supplies  you 
want,  daily." 

"But  the  mine?"  babbled  Fred. 

"I'll  have  that  watched,  too,  on  the  private.  Don't 
you  forget  it!  Do  you  accept?"  The  gambler  spoke 
roughly.  The  cross  blood  in*  Frederick  Wyman's  heart 
boiled  up.     Hi3  youthful  gorge  rose. 

"And  if  I  do  not?"  he  snarled,  with  one  attempt  at 
self-assertion.  A  sudden  flash  of  cold  steel  glittered  be- 
fore Wyman's  eyes.  The  navy  revolver  had  never  looked 
as  inconveniently  oversized  as  on  this  particular  day  when 
Wyman  looked  down  its  loaded  barrel.  "I'll  kill  you  in 
your  tracks  if  you  double  on  me;  for  I  have  got  your  fool 
of  a  partner  now  where  I  want  him." 

Wyman's  glance  dropped,  and  his  hand  left  the  butt  of 
his  own  pistol.  "Anything,  anything,  Steve,"  he  mur- 
mured; and  he  stood  there  trembling  and  fascinated  as 
the  gambler  rode  away. 

Four  days  later,  Berard  walked  into  the  cabin  where 
Wyman   and   his   secret   jailer  sat   over  their  cards  and 


46    .  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

whisky.  By  the  brookside  the  gambler  indicated  the 
"  Mariquita"  with  a  wink.  * 'We've  been  struck  by  light- 
ning luck.  There's  millions  in  that  location."  Wyman's 
teeth  chattered  as  he  walked  away  and  sat  down  on  a  stone 
by  the  icy  flowing  waters  of  the  brook  leaping  out  of  the 
buttressing  crags  over  him  there,  covering  the  unsuspected 
bonanza. 

"  Are  you  sure?  "  he  faintly  said. 

"  I  know  it!  "  firmly  answered  his  master.  "  Get  your 
things  together  and  come  up  and  stay  at  the  Golden  Eagle 
for  a  couple  of  weeks,  for  I  am  going  down  to  Holman's 
ranch.  But  I'll  first  go  to  Washoe  City,  catch  the  stage 
and  go  on  over  at  night  to  Truckee.  Then  I'll  happen  in 
at  the  old  man's  place  at  Carson  about  the  time  of  this 
election  of  delegates  to  the  Convention." 

"  When  do  you  want  me?  "  meekly  murmured  the  man 
who  had  loosened  this  growing  afrite  from  the  bottle. 

"Oh!  Get  up  there  about  night-fall.  By  the  way,  leave 
all  your  traps  here.  Old  Johnson  can  look  after  them. 
I'll  send  a  decent  outfit  into  your  room,  and  leave  you 
plenty  of  money."  Berard  paused,  in  this  unusually  long 
personal  announcement. 

"  And,  what  shall  I  do  up  in  town?  "  hazarded  Wyman, 
now  drifting  along  helplessly  under  the  piloting  of  the 
cool  villain,  who  had  mastered  him. 

"  Just  lay  around  town,  and  keep  your  mouth  shut.  Stay 
away  from  the  cabin  here,  till  you  hear  from  Holman's 
ranch." 

When  Wyman  was  alone,  he  felt  a  strange  new  sensa- 
tion. Some  strange  warm  fluid,  new  to  him,  seemed  to  be 
coursing  in  his  veins.  His  head  was  unconsciously  ele- 
vated, in  a  new  born  pride,  but  all  that  afternoon  he 
started  at  the  mere  crackle  of  a  twig,  or  the  chance  shadow 
of  a  passing  wayfarer  in  the  lonely  trail  leading  down  to 


MR.    ROBERT    DEVEREUX    DECLINES    A   DRINK.  47 

the  Carson.  At  night-fall,  he  left  the  cafion  and  dared 
not  look  back  to  where  he  had  so  often  sat  in  the  cool  of 
the  evening  before  their  cabin  door,  with  the  man  who 
was  now  lingering  by  the  great  stone  fireplace  at  Holman's 
ranch.  In  the  hush  of  that  winter  evening,  as  he  climbed 
the  hill  to  the  straggling  city  on  the  mountain's  breast, 
the  huge  black  mass  of  Mount  Davidson  seemed  to  him  to 
be  only  a  giant  stone  rolled  over  the  crushed  breast  of 
Robert  Devereux. 

"I  hope  to  God  I  will  never  see  or  hear  of  him  again!" 
was  the  singular  prayer  which  ascended  to  Heaven  from 
the  cowardly  renegade's  heart. 

Three  weeks  later,  Elder  Holman  of  the  Church  of  the 
Latter  Day  Saints  sat,  in  the  noon  sunshine,  gazing  out  com- 
placently on  the  far  sweeping  Carson  meadows  which 
were  his  own  property.  The  comfortable  seat  of  his  road 
wagon  was  the  throne  of  the  Mormon  dignitary,  who 
veiled  here  his  unlawful  rank,  under  the  genial  vulgate 
of  Old  Man  Holman.  He  was  in  high  good  humor  on  this 
election  morning.  A  new  government  contract  for  hay  at 
fifty  dollars  per  ton,  enabled  him  to  dispose  of  the  vast 
crop  which  cost  him  little,  save  cheap  rations  and  unlim- 
ited whisky  for  the  Piute  aboriginal  squaws  who  cut  it. 
Three  thousand  acres  of  land  simply  pre-empted,  was  his 
baronial  domain.  On  the  hills,  grazed  the  cattle  and 
horses  picked  up  from  the  emigrant  trains,  still  pouring 
westward.  For  they  crawled  along  over  the  Rockies, 
from  "St.  Joe"  and  Kansas  City,  to  thread  the  never-end- 
ing Platte  valley,  wander,  weary-footed,  past  Salt  Lake, 
drag  down  the  Humboldt,  and  then,  by  Donner's  Gap  and 
Truckee,  enter  the  great  Sacramento  Valley  through  the 
eternally  uplifted  gates  of  the  Sierras.  From  these 
hardy  parents  of  the  untamed  brood  of  the  Golden  Land, 
the  sly,  oily  old  Mormon  became  rich  by  a  traffic  on  their 


48  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

necessities.  He  fell  heir  to  their  abandoned  household 
gear.  Their  broken-down  trains  were  all  refitted  at  his 
shops,  and  even  his  pale-faced  harem  spoiled  the  care- 
worn emigrant  mothers  of  their  last  treasured  womanly 
gear. 

While  the  Indian  squaws  cultivated  "  garden  truck " 
for  the  near-by  market  of  Carson  City,  the  territorial  cap- 
ital, Holman  used  the  Indian  "bucks  "  to  herd  his  cattle 
and  to  convey  the  produce  to  the  nearest  settlements.  The 
sordid  squaws  worked  for  rations  and  shining  silver,  with 
trading  goods  of  inflammatory  color,  but  the  lordly  war- 
rior toiled  alone  for  that  whisky,  the  all  potent  "fire 
water "  which  unlocks  the  savage  heart  over  the  whole 
World.  "The  warrior  bent  his  crested  head"  only  to 
linger  lovingly  with  his  copper-hued  lips,  glued  to  the 
neck  of  the  magic  brown  bottle. 

On  the  frontier,  it  is  an  even  race  for  "Home  Rule," 
between  an  attractive  woman,  even  with  a  go-as-you-please 
history,  and  the  invincible  spirits  of  wine.  King  Alcohol 
usually  creeps  closer  to  the  heart  and  lingers  longer  than 
the  vicarious  daughters  of  Venus  who  awake  long  slum- 
bering passions.  The  wide  swath  cut  by  "forty  rod 
whisky"  in  this  weary  world  puts  the  grim  record  of  At- 
tila  the  Destroyer  far  back  into  well  merited  obscurity. 

It  was  whispered  in  Reno  and  Carson,  yea,  even  to  Vir- 
ginia City's  halls,  that  old  Holman  artfully  kept  several 
large  U.  S.  Cavalry  posts  garrisoned  near  him,  a  splendid 
market  for  his  stock,  horses  and  hay,  by  inducing  his 
swarthy  warrior  helots,  when  not  cutting  grass,  to  go  out 
and  make  insane  demonstrations  of  revolt  in  the  nearest 
mountains.  Mail  carriers  waylaid,  a  periodical  Indian 
scare,  and  all  these  threatened  uprisings  enriched  the  old 
hypocrite,  who  regarded  all  this  only  as  a  good  joke  on 
"Uncle  Sam." 


MR.    ROBERT    DEVEREUX    DECLINES    A    DRINK.  49 

'  His  "  Uncle"  was  quite  busied  then  with  Messrs.  Lee, 
Bragg,  Beauregard,  and  Johnston,  and  the  ocean  was  lit 
up  with  the  flames  of  burning  Yankee  ships.  So  "Brother 
Holman  "  worked  all  his  little  schemes  in  safety,  for  Brig- 
ham  Young  was  now  the  uncontrolled  master  of  the  Middle 
Gates  of  America  at  Echo  Canon.  There,  with  twenty 
thousand  stalwart  Mormons  at  his  back,  he  could  say,  '  <  No 
Thoroughfare,"  for  the  magic  locomotive  would  not 
scream  the  knell  of  the  Mormon  Church  for  several  long 
and  weary  years.  And  the  country's  fate  trembled  in  the 
balance ! 

"Devereux,"  heartily  cried  the  old  Danite  (whose 
awful  secret  rank  was  unknown  in  the  Carson  Valley), 
"  Don't  mope  around  here  always  with  my  women.  You 
make  me  jealous."  The  coarse  old  patriarch  guffawed,  as 
the  sun-bonneted  women  fled  away. 

They  all  liked  Devereux's  gentle  ways,  his  personal  re- 
finement, and  one  or  two  of  the  "wives"  had  even  fur- 
tively chatted  with  the  convalescent  about  the  "  States," 
which  they  were  doomed  never  to  see  again.  Swept  into 
the  grinding  mill  of  the  world's  strangest  social  experi- 
ment, these  dull-eyed  drudges  still  cherished  a  bit  of  hid- 
den sentimentality  at  heart.  The  dull  sameness  of  their 
anonymous  maternity,  drudgery  and  cowering  slavery, 
yielded  to  Devereux's  feeble  yet  tender  sentimentality  for 
his  absent  wife  and  child. 

"See  here,  jump  in  and  ride  down  to  the  polling  place 
with  me.  I've  got  to  see  that  all  goes  on  square  and  fair. 
It's  only  a  couple  of  miles  down  there  at  the  Willows 
Cross  Roads."  Devereux  slowly  yielded  to  Holman's  hearty 
persuasions.  Lingering  along  in  the  artful  bargaining, 
waiting  till  the  rancher  could  sell  a  "  drove  of  beeves,"  or 
five  hundred  cavalry  horses  to  get  ready  gold,  the  chief 
owner  of  the  "  Mariquita  "  was  content,  for  his  weekly 
letters  from  partner  Wyman  told  that  all  was  well. 


50  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"  If  I  get  the  new  mail  contracts,  or  close  my  annual 
hay  supply  with  Uncle  Sam,  I  can  then  pay  you  out  in 
"greenbacks,"  urged  Holman  as  he  dallied  daily  with  the 
unsuspecting  stranger  within  his  gates.  For,  banks  there 
were  none  near  him. 

Robert  Devereux  fell  naturally  in  with  Holman's  easy 
mood,  and  never  once  turned  back  his  eyes  to  where  the  clus- 
tered women  watched  them  from  the  porch,  as  they  drove 
away  over  the  springy  Carson  meadows.  There  was  one 
among  the  dull-eyed  women  who  went  back  into  her  den 
in  the  great  old  two-storied  ranch  house,  and  hid  her  face 
in  her  blue  cotton  apron,  crying  the  pitiful  wail  of  a  feeble 
woman. 

"Mother  Louise"  was  now  an  old  woman,  Holman's 
first  wife.  She  had  passed  all  the  days  of  passion's  storms. 
Whatever  poor  bit  of  timid-beating  heart  she  ever  had, 
was  now  broken.  In  secret  sadness,  she  had  seen  addition 
after  addition  made  to  the  roomy  old  caravansera.  As 
Holman  prospered  and  waxed  socially  defiant,  younger, 
more  comely  women  claimed  the  brief  honors  of  the  ruling 
favorite.  But  the  faded  old  "  first  wife  "  was  intelligent. 
Fear  and  mere  habit  had  made  her  loyal.  It  was  she  who 
had  brought  the  smooth-faced  old  scoundrel  the  loaded  re- 
volver which  the  stranger  guest  might  have  felt  in  Asa 
Holman's  overcoat  pocket  as  they  drove  away,  crowded 
together  on  the  wagon  seat.  No  one  but  old  "  Mother 
Louise"  knew  of  the  secret  visits  of  Killer  Brown  and 
his  ilk. 

She,  alone,  had  observed  Steve  Berard  wandering  around 
at  night-fall,  in  the  farthest  corral,  behind  the  storehouse, 
for  several  days  past,  with  the  cold-eyed  despot  who  bru- 
talized her,  and  yet  trusted  her,  alone,  of  all  the  world. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Asa!  "  she  had  timidly  whimpered, 
"  Have  no  harm  come  to  this  poor  man,  under  our  roof. 


ME.    ROBERT    DEVEREUX    DECLINES    A    DRINK.  51 

Think  of  yourself."  But  she  was  fain  to  be  silent  as  the 
sturdy  old  scoundrel  threw  her  from  him. 

"By  God,  Louise,  if  yon  take  on,  I'll  cart  you  down  to 
John,  on  Salt  River  in  Arizona,  and  he  can  then  take  care  of 
you."  The  poor  old  dethroned  wife  hid  her  whitened  face 
in  her  deserted  room,  for  the  one  son  of  these  early  days, 
now  a  fiery  apostle  of  Brigham,  was  far  away  pushing  the 
feelers  of  the  Mormon  octopus  on  toward  Arizona  and 
Mexico. 

The  frightened  woman,  sobbing  alone  in  her  room,  could 
not  divine  the  sly,  mean  rascality  of  her  husband,  who  did 
not  care  to  risk  his  life,  or  the  enjoyment  of  his  "much 
good  "  in  a  mere  blood  quarrel.  But  Magistrate  Holman, 
the  leading  citizen,  had  his  cue  and  his  eyes  never  left  the 
face  of  the  stranger  as  they  dallied  in  "  bald  disjointed 
chat  "  until  they  reached  the  polling  place. 

An  excited,  drunken  crowd  of  several  hundred  lingered 
around  the  Willows  Cross  Roads,  at  a  safe  distance;  for  by 
the  law's  light  prohibition,  the  voting  place  was  located  in 
some  sheds,  near  the  stage  house  station  and  grog  shop, 
where  Holman's  meaner  villainies  were  usually  enacted. 
Frowsy  indians,  playing  cards,  on  greasy  blankets  stretched 
near  the  fences,  a  few  dozen  horses  tied  to  the  rails  of  the 
corrals,  a  fringe  of  armed,  vulgar  loafers,  and  the  occa- 
sional visits  of  wagon  loads  of  noisy  voters,  enlivened  the 
great  day  of  the  Constitutional  Convention  election. 

Devereux,  finally  voting  at  Holman's  dictation,  after 
several  feeble  protests,  was  really  glad  to  leave  the  scene, 
when  the  Elder  Magistrate,  the  leader  of  public  opinion 
in  the  valley,  had  pompously  inspected  the  whole  proceed- 
ings. 

"There  maybe  some  letters.  It's  near  stage  time." 
carelessly  remarked  Asa  Holman,  as  they  leisurely  drove 
over  to  the  Cross  Roads. 


52  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

A  motely  crowd  of  loungers,  purchasers  and  patrons  of 
the  bar,  filled  the  Cross  Roads  store.  In  the  tedium  of 
waiting  for  the  assorting  of  a  hundred  letters  by  a  half 
drunken  clerk,  cigar  in  mouth,  and  in  his  shirt  sleeves, 
Devereux  wandered  out  into  the  bar-room,  where  a  few. 
flashy  illustrated  papers  lay  spread  on  the  vacant  card 
tables.  From  without,  the  sounds  of  political  quarrel, 
cheers  for  the  Red,  White  and  Blue,  hurrahs  for  Jeff 
Davis,  and  all  the  Babel  of  a  day  of  days  at  the  Cross 
Roads,  jarred  upon  the  weakened  nerves  of  the  sick  pros- 
pector. Wearied  of  waiting,  he  rose  to  pass  out,  and, 
with  his  eyes  vainly  searching  for  "  Brother  Holman," 
essayed  to  edge  his  way  through  the  newer  patrons  of  the 
"  whisky  spring."  A  pair  of  sinewy  hands  whirled  him 
roughly  round  before  the  bar.  For  the  first  time  he  saw, 
at  close  range,  the  disgustingly  vicious  face  of  "  White- 
headed  Steve." 

44  See  here,  every  man  has  got  to  drink  to  the  Stars  »and 
Bars.  Hurrah  for  Jeff  Davis!  Hats  off,  and  whisky  all 
round.  Damn  Abe  Lincoln!  "  the  gambler  cried,  in  an 
affected  fury.  Devereux  was  half  way  to  the  door  when 
the  gambler's  hot  breath  was  on  his  cheek. 

"Don't  back  out,  you  white-livered  Yankee,"  cried 
Steve  Berard,  whose  hand  had  dropped  to  his  side.  In 
the  nervous  revulsion  of  the  sudden  onslaught,  Devereux 
stepped  back  a  pace  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  him. 

"I  don't  drink  to  Jeff  Davis;  I "    There  were   two 

deafening  reports  in  quick  succession,  a  crash  of  glass,  as 
several  frightened  loafers  sprang  through  the  flimsy  win- 
dows, and  as  the  barkeepers  raised  their  heads  from  their 
concealment  behind  the  bar,  the  blue  smoke  drifted  away. 
"White-headed  Steve,"  as  repulsive  as  a  cotton-mouthed 
moccasin,  was  there,  still  erect.  Springing  back  a  step  or 
two,  he  still  held  his  smoking  pistol  cocked  in    his   hand. 


MR.    ROBERT    DEVEREUX    DECLINES    A    DRINK.  53 

Not  a  word  escaped  his  thin,  cruel  lips  as  Asa  Holman 
leaned  over  the  prostrate  form  of  Devereux,  writhing 
on  the  floor,  with  a  thickening  pool  of  warm  red 
blood  stealing  out  from  under  the  twitching  arms.  The 
lips  of  the  dying  man  moved.  Holman  bending  down 
over  him,  heard  the  last  sigh  of  the  parting  spirit:  "My 
God,  Mary,  the  child!  " 

And  as  the  outsiders  crowded  to  the  door,  Berard's 
voice  broke  the  silence:  "Take  his  pistol  away,  Judge. 
That's  all.     He  wasn't  quick  enough." 

When  Elder  Holman  laid  the  undischarged  pistol  on 
the  bar,  before  them  all,  his  husky  voice  shook  slightly  as 
he  said:  "  What's  all  this  about,  gentlemen?  This  is 
most  unfortunate.  This  man  was  staying  down  at  my 
house." 

In  five  minutes  the  soberest  of  the  bystanders  were 
awaiting  the  summons  of  a  coroner's  jury,  to  the  little  rear 
office,  where  Robert  Devereux's  face  was  slowly  stiffening 
from  the  waxen  warmth  of  the  passing,  into  what  the  men 
of  the  scalpel  call  the  "rigor  mortis." 

Steven  Berard,  in  an  adjoining  storeroom,  was  sur- 
rounded by  an  excited  crowd.  "  Don't  talk,  Steve,"  cried 
a  hard-faced  man,  pushing  his  way  to  the  front.  "Judge 
Holman,  himself,  knows  that  this  here  fellow  pulled  his 
gun  first.     Keep  quiet.     You'll  be  out  all  right." 

To  a  casual  stage  passenger,  who  leaned  against  a  door, 
the  sudden  sobering  of  Mr.  Steve  Berard  looked  very 
strange.  The  outsider  quickly  wended  his  way  to  the 
now  waiting  stage,  and  as  he  dropped  into  his  seat,  mut- 
tered, "Looks  like  a  '  put-up  job.'  The  poor  fellow  never 
tried  to  shoot.  That  I  know.  I'll  be  glad  to  get  out  of 
this  murderous  hole  alive."  The  stage  was  miles  away 
before  the  stranger  suddenly  started.  "  That  pistol,  yes, 
some  one  dropped  it  there  near  him.     For  what  purpose? 


54  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

Poor  fellow,  he  looked  rather  decent.  Sort  of  Eastern  man, 
I  guess."  And,  on  his  arrival  in  Virginia  City,  the  Postal 
Inspector,  who  prudently  traveled  in  strict  incognito,  mar- 
veled that  the  * '  Carson  City  Times  "  made  no  mention 
of  the  incident.  • 

"The  fact  is,  "said  Asa  Holman,on  the  day  following  the 
tragedy,  as  he  talked  with  the  editor  of  the  one  journal  of 
Carson  City,  "My  women  are  taking  on  awfully  about  this. 
It's  the  first  killin'  near  our  ranch.  The  jury  found  it 
was  'self-defense,'  and,  true,  there  was  this  man's  pistol 
in  his  hand,  you  see.  I  could  do  nothing  but  let  Berard 
go.  He's  a  sort  of  a  half-way  peaceable  fellow, is  Steve.  So, 
as  it's  all  regular,  I  wish  you  would  not  stir  this  thing  up. 
All  the  boys  down  there  say  it  was  'square  shootin'.'  I 
heard  two  shots  myself." 

"Did  this  man  shoot  at  Steve?  "the  editor  languidly 
said,  as  he  motioned  the  rich  farmer  into  the  nearest 
saloon  for  a  last  solemn  drink  to  the  names  of  the  de- 
parted. 

"Well,  that's  argued,"  said  the  cautious  Mormon, 
scratching  his  head.  "I  picked  up  the  pistol  and  laid  it 
on  the  bar.  It's  gone!  Somebody  whipped  it  away  in  the 
hurry." 

"  Where's  Steve?  "  queried  the  journalist  as  he  finished 
his  drink. 

"  Oh,  he  got  out  of  the  valley.  Gone  back  to  Virginia 
City  by  way  of  W'ashoe  City.  He  was  quite  badly  cut  up 
about  this." 

"  Who  was  this  man,  anyway?  "  was  the  last  interroga- 
tory of  the  man  of  ink. 

"  No  one  knows  much.  His  things  were  all  turned  over 
to  me.  My  women  are  looking  through  them,  but  he  had 
no  papers  of  any  kind." 

Elder  Holman  soberlv  drove  awav  homeward  in  his  com- 


MR.    ROBERT   DEVEREUX    DECLINES    A    DRINK.  55 

fortable  road  wagon,  and  never  finished  that  remark.  He 
meant  to  imply  that  Robert  Devereux  had  no  papers  with 
him,  when  a  shallow  trench, hollowed  in  the  Carson  mead- 
ows,hidthe  pale,  accusing  face  of  the  victim  from  the  eyes 
of  the  sanctimonious  Holman.  Behind  the  Elder,  Mother 
Louise,  with  blanched  face,  looked  at  the  hasty  ceremony. 
She  alone  knew  where  the  missing  pistol  was  hidden.  She 
alone  knew  of  the  vigil  in  which  Holman  and  Steve  Ber- 
ard  rifled  all  the  poor  belongings  of  the  dead  owner  of  the 
"Mariquita."  Steven  Berard  hurrying  away  to  the  scene 
of  future  triumphs,  bore,  in  his  flinty  bosom,  the  little 
packet  of  faded  papers,  which  tied  up  the  legal  title  to  the 
hidden  treasures. 

The  quiet  of  the  winter  night  which  closed  down  upon 
the  lonely  grave  at  Holman 's  ranch,  was  broken  by  no 
woman's  wail,  for,  far  away,  Mary  Devereux  was  comfort- 
ing her  child. 

"  We  will  all  be  so  happy,  Hope,  when  your  father  comes 
home  to  us."  For,  the  waiting  wife  only  knew  vaguely  of 
some  impending  stroke  of  good  fortune. 


56  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 


CHAPTER  III. 
Administering  Upon  the  Estate. 

Frederick  Wyman  was  a  changed  man  in  the  four  weeks 
of  lonely  waiting  for  tidings  from  the  ranch  on  the  Carson. 
In  some  strange,  occult  way,  Berard  had  broken  his  spirit. 
He  never  even  considered  the  mutiny  of  a  stolen  visit  to 
where  the  buried  riches  of  the  "  Mariquita"  lay.  Week 
by  week  the  great  "lode"  was  being  traced  southward  to 
the  edge  of  the  high  ridge  overlooking  Grizzly  Canon.  ' i  I 
shall  not  write  to  you, "  Berard  had  snapped  out.  "  My 
man  will  keep  me  posted  by  our  own  '  grapevine  telegraph.' 
Don't  you  fret  about  the  mine.  Have  a  good  time.  Wait, 
and  keep  your  mouth  shut."* 

The  good  time  spun  itself  out  into  a  galling  and  lazy 
slavery.  The  faces  of  the  loungers,  the  painted  visages  of 
the  cheap  Cleopatras  of  Nevada,  the  dull  round  of  visits  to 
saloon,  stage  station,  dance  hall,  and  the  street  loitering, 
all  these  things  became  disgustingly  familiar.  To  read 
was  impossible.  In  a  town  boasting  two  hundred  saloons, 
there  was  not  as  yet  a  single  book  store.  Wyman  dared 
not  visit  the  principal  mines.  Even  the  daily  chatter  of 
the  leather-lunged  prospectors  weighed  upon  him.  For 
the  thousandth  time,  he  briefly  explained  that  his  partner 
had  gone  < '  over  the  Ridge  "  for  rest  and  medical  treatment. 
A  slowly  burning  fever  took  possession  of  his  mind,  cen- 
tered now  upon  the  deed  without  a  name.  "What  if  Dev- 
ereux  should  escape,  should  slip  away,  led  on  by  his 
Heimweh?  Perchance,  an  unhappy  accident  of  the  en- 
counter might  betray  all.      Then,  discovery  meant  ruin." 


ADMINISTERING    UPON    THE    ESTATE.  57 

That  golden  future  grew  black.  The  borderer  wasted  his 
youthful  vigor  in  tossing  at  night  upon  a  restless  bed.  He 
haunted  the  stage  station  and  wearied  the  drivers  with  his 
too  labored  questions  of  the  news  from  Carson  City.  The 
direct  question,  "Looking  for  your  partner  everyday?" 
soon  frightened  him  away. 

And  still,  no  news  from  the  prowling  human  tiger  who 
coveted  the  Mariquita.  It  was  a  cheerless  spring  after- 
noon, when  a  letter  and  telegram  roused  him  to  instant  ac- 
tion. He  shivered  as  he  gazed  at  the  signature  of  the  let- 
ter— "Mary  Devereux."  He  thrust  the  envelope  quickly 
into  his  bosom.  But  every  drop  of  blood  bounded  as  he 
read  the  dispatch.  "  Meet  me  at  the  Virginia  House,  Gold 
Hill,  to-night — all  right."  The  signature  "  Steve," told 
the  story  of  the  ghastly  achievement.  It  was  all  over! 
With  an  unsteady  step,  he  sought  the  bar-room,  and,  even 
Mulholland,  the  dispenser  of  "giraffe"  drinks,  muttered 
in  surprise, 

"Take  out  a  wholesale  license,  Fred.  You  are  a  large 
consumer.  What's  wrong  with  you?  "  Wyman  dropped  his 
eyes  nervously. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  answered,  almost  humbly,  as  his 
teeth  chattered,  "  I  may  have  brought  the  Grizzly  Canon 
ague  ur>  here  with  me."  He  was  cold  indeed!  His  heart 
lay  like  a  stone  in  his  breast  and  his  face  was  gray  and 
ashen,  as  he  cowered  under  heavy  wraps  in  the  buggy, 
which  swiftly  conveyed  him  to  Gold  Hill.  He  divined 
Berard's  intentions  in  the  coming  quiet  conference;  the  ar- 
rangements to  perfect  their  title  and  possession.  He  knew 
not  that  Steve  Berard  had  accurately  gauged  his  lack  of 
nerve.  "That  smug  face  of  his  would  be  a  give  away, 
until  I  tone  him  up  a  bit,"  mused  the  gambler,  as  he  lei- 
surely rode  into  the  rival  mining  camp  which  seemed  to 
fatten  on  the  tail  end  of  the    great  Comstock  lode,  follow- 


58  MISS    DEVEBEUX    OF    THE    MAEIQUITA. 

ing  the  astounding  expansion  of  Virginia  City.  For  men 
were  organizing  "  Companies,"  and  anchoring  sporadic 
masses  of  hastily  thrown  together  machinery  wherever  a 
few  rocky  knobs  even  hinted  of  a  vein  beneath.  It  was 
the  expansive  period  of  the  American  "  boom"  locality, 
throbbing  with  the  fiery  fever  of  life,  before  crystallizing 
into  solidity. 

"Anybody  here  for  me?"  carelessly  asked  "White- 
headed  Steve,"  as  he  finished  his  stern  injunctions  to  the 
hostler  to  give  his  riding  mare  "  Strideaway,"  the  treat- 
ment of  an  equine  princess. 

"Gentleman  from  Virginia  in  the  private  card  room," 
nodded  the  barkeeper,  as  he  "set  them  up"  with  auto- 
matic neatness  and  the  confidence  of  a  long  knowledge  of 
Berard's  habits. 

The  gambler  passed  on,  without  another  word,  into  the 
room  where  Fred  Wyman  stood  in  waiting,  trembling  at 
the  sound  of  the  murderer's  voice.  Closing  the  door, 
Berard  deliberately  lit  a  cigar  and  dropped  into  a  chair. 
Fixing  his  eyes  on  the  eager  Southerner,  Steve  said  quietly, 
"Well,  it's  over.    Any  talk  up  here?" 

"Not  a  word,"  answered  Wyman,  starting  at  the  hol- 
low sound  of  his  own  voice.  "Did  you  get  any  papers 
from — from  him?"  faltered  Fred,  with  an  ill-concealed 
anxiety.  His  selfish  egoism  overcame  his  moral  fear  of 
this  stunted  little  viperous  destroyer  who  had  sent  poor 
Devereux  to  a  "  land  without  laughter. " 

"Nothing,"  unblushingly  lied  the  "  sport,"  as  the  thin 
paoket  pressed  on  his  breast  rose  and  fell  with  his  breath- 
ing. 

"Then,"  whispered  the  sorrowing  partner,  "I  fear  we 
are  in  for  trouble.  I  got  a  letter  from  his  wife  to-day. 
He  must  have  sent  his  certificates  and  papers  down  to 
her." 


ADMINISTERING    UPON    THE    ESTATE.  59 

"  What's  in  the  letter?"  shortly  demanded  Steve,  with- 
out removing  his  cigar. 

"I  don't  know.  I  could  not  bear  to  read  it."  Wyman's 
jaw  dropped,  as  Berard  held  out  his  hand  without  a  word. 
For  the  gambler  despised  the  weaker  villain  of  the  dual 
conspiracy. 

" Nothing  there,"  he  said,  contemptuously,  after  a  pause 
when  he  threw  the  letter  back.  "  Only  woman's  rot  about 
coming  home,  and  so  on.  Now,  we've  got  to  work  this 
thing  neatly.  You  had  better  get  out  of  the  way  a  little, 
and  leave  me  to  do  enough  work  on  the  mine  to  forfeit 
Devereux's  interest.  This  woman  will  surely  bother  you 
with  more  letters.  You  can't  very  well  make  any  decent 
excuses.  She  may  get  anxious.  She  may  telegraph  or 
come  up  here,  if  she's  fool  enough.  You  never  can  tell 
just  what  a  woman  will  do,"  said  Berard,  closing  his  eyes, 
in  a  troubled  and  reminiscent  manner.  ' «  They  turn  up  in 
the  funniest  way,  just  when  you  don't  want  them.  You 
could  not  explain  very  well  to  her.  She  has  written  to 
him  at  Holman's,  and,  also,  to  the  old  man.  But,  that's 
all  safe.  Old  Asa  will  hold  the  letters  to  him,  apparently 
unopened.  The  other,  he  won't  notice.  I  guess  they're 
poor  enough,  and  she'll  jump  around  a  little,  and  then 
pick  up  somebody  else." 

Wyman  walked  to  the  window  to  hide  his  disgust. 
There  was  a  shade  of  sentimentality  in  the  unslaked, 
sensual  nature  of  the  florid  young  fellow. 

"  What  do  you  propose?  "  he  said,  in  a  muffled  voice. 

"  Give  me  a  contract  to  sink  the  shaft  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred feet,  and  to  run  the  main  tunnel  in  the  same  distance. 
You  can  legally  sign  for  yourself,  and  for  Devereux,  as  his 
agent.  You  see  you  are  supposed  to  know  nothing  of  his 
death.  That  will  give  me  legal  control  and  possession  of 
the  mine.     I  will  put  a  superintendent  on,  and  hold  posses- 


60  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MAKIQUITA. 

sion  till  this  racket  blows  over.  He  will,  of  course,  know 
nothing  of  the  late  Devereux,  and  I  will  keep  in  the  back- 
ground. I  am  'Munson  &  Co.,'  or  anybody  else  we 
choose  to  name.  It's  my  money,  anyway,"  said  the  gam- 
bler, with  rude  insolence.  » 

"But  how  will  I  be  safe,  Steve?"  querulously  de- 
manded Wyman.  "  I  give  up  all  to  you,  and  have  noth- 
ing to  show  for  my  own  share  in  this  new  deal." 

"I  never  break  my  word,"  sternly  said  the  desperado; 
and  he  only  spoke  the  truth.  He  accentuated  this  state- 
ment by  the  bright  remark,  "  You  had  better  go  down  to 
Steamboat  Springs  for  a  month.  I'll  run  the  thing  alone 
here,  till  we  have  got  his  interest  legally  sold  out  for 
assessment  work.      Then  we  can  fix  up  the  title." 

"I  will  not  consent!"  cried  Wyman,  bounding  up,  his 
face  livid,  for  he  thought  of  the  hidden  treasure  which 
was  to  pave  his  golden  way  to  the  dazzling  "  upper 
tendom  "  of  San  Francisco's  elastic  Vanity  Fair. 

"You  had  better  be  reasonable.  The  man  who  is  now 
watching  that  mine  would  fill  you  with  lead  like  a  stray 
coyote,  if  you  set  foot  on  it  without  my  sanction!  "  re- 
marked Mr.  Steven  Berard,  with  his  hand  on  the  familiar 
mahogany  butt  of  that  Colt's  navy,  which  was  now  enti- 
tled to  another  cross.  For  prudential  reasons,  Berard  had 
failed  to  inscribe  it.  "  He  don't  count.  Too  much  like 
killing  a  chicken,"  was  the  callous  verdict  of  the  slayer, 
as  he  had  deliberately  reloaded  his  weapon  on  the  road 
after  leaving  Holman's  Ranch.  "  Now,  I  want  my  supper. 
Be  sensible,  Fred.  Don't  get  rusty.  It  won't  pay.  I 
will  ride  in  to  Virginia  to-night.  You  come  up  with  the 
stage  about  noon  to-morrow.  You  will  find  me  at  the 
Golden  Eagle.  I  will  look  around  town  a  little.  I  will 
stake  you,  and  we  will  split  the  thing  on  the  square.  You 
see  I  can  not  make  you  dead  safe.     We  have  got  to  patch 


ADMINISTERING    UPON    THE    ESTATE.  61 

up  papers  and  get  the  thing  squarely  in  our  hands,  before 
we  dare  to  show  our  title  to  it." 

"  You  are  right,  Steve,"  submissively  remarked  Wyman, 
who  reflected  he  was  now  alone  with  a  desperate  man  in 
one  of  the  "  gang's"  chosen  resorts.  No  friendly  witness 
was  near  to  observe  a  duplication  of  the  tactics  which 
had  sent  Devereux  to  a  bloody  and  an  obscure  grave. 

"All  right,''  cheerfully  answered  the  gambler,  who, 
however,  allowed  Wyman  to  go  out  before  him,  as  he 
motioned  the  youth  onward  to  the  bar,  for  the  golden 
seal  of  friendship. 

It  never  occurred  to  Frederick  Wyman  to  test  his  phys- 
ical superiority,  or  equal  prowess  with  this  self-reliant 
scoundrel  over  whom  he  towered.  For,  the  cool  gray  eye 
of  Berard  never  left  his  dupe  a  moment;  and  moreover 
Berard  had  promised  him  ready  funds. 

"  Did  you  hear  about  Brown  last  night?"  whispered  the 
barkeeper  to  Berard,  as  Wyman,  after  drinking,  strolled 
away  out  of  hearing. 

"  No,  what's  up?"  muttered  Berard,  with  a  strange, new 
sense  of  uneasiness. 

"  Brown  made  the  mistake  of  his  life.  Had  a  row  with  a 
decent  young  fellow  from  the  East  in  a  saloon.  Killed 
him  with  a  knife,  and  then  went  to  sleep,  drunk,  on  the 
billiard  table  in  the  bar-room,  and  wouldn't  let  them  even 
take  the  body  away." 

"Well?"  impatiently  demanded  White-headed  Steve. 

"There's  a  big  excitement  at  Virginia,  and — and — 
some  talk,  Steve, of  <  Regulators,"  Vigilantes,'  and  all  that. 
Look  out  for  yourself,  Steve.  I  wouldn't  go  up  there 
to-night."     The  Ganymede  was  anxious  and  excited. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  fiercely  demanded  the  sport. 

"They  talk  of  running  all  the  fancy  men  out  of  town 
there.   I  would  not  want  you  to  get  into  any  trouble.  I  tell 


62  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

you  that  this  thing  has  gone  too  far.  Brown  got  up  ugly 
this  morning,  and  then  threatened  to  kill  Henry  Van  Sicle 
down  at  his  hotel.  Now,  I  know,"  and  the  voice  sank  still 
lower,  "  Van  took  his  big  shotgun  and  a  couple  of  pistols 
and  fled  to  the  trails,  and  there  will  be  trouble  ahead.  It 
is  one  or  the  other  of  them.  And,  Brown  is  drunk.  A 
poor  show!  " 

"  Pshaw!"  simply  said  Berard.  "It's  only  a  scare.  Let 
me  have  an  extra  pistol!  I'll  ride  up  to  town  after  my 
supper.  I'll  put  '  Strideaway '  up  with  a  friend  on  a  side 
street,  and  walk  into  the  city.  The  boys  will  post  me. 
Give  me  a  dozen  of  your  best  cigars." 

"All  right,  Steve,"  the  boniface  good-humoredly  said. 
"You  know  your  own  mind  best,  but  take  care  of  your- 
self." 

Berard  nodded  as  he  strolled  into  the  supper  room. 

As  the  gambler  leaned  over  the  the  arched  neck  of  his 
beautiful  mare,  under  the  friendly  stars  that  night,  at  part- 
ing fromWyman,  the  barkeeper  stole  up  with  a  flask  in  his 
hand.  "Take  this  Steve,  it's  cold  on  the  road."  And  again 
he  whispered,  "By  Heavens!  I  wouldn't  risk  it.  Some  of 
the  boys  say  they  are  raising  hell  now  up  there."  Steven 
Berard's  dauntless  face  never  moved  a  muscle.  He  thought 
of  the  treasure-stuffed  veins  of  the  Mariquita.  With  an 
oath,  he  dashed  the  spurs  into  the  fretting  steed  whose 
hoofs  left  a  long  line  of  sparks  on  the  flinty  road,  as  she 
raced  madly  along  toward  the  city  of  the  hidden   millions. 

Before  the  graceful  "Strideaway"  dropped  her  wearied 
head  at  the  friendly  shelter  of  the  friend's  stable  door,  two 
men,  armed  to  the  teeth,  were  hidden  in  the  box  belfry  of 
the  little  school  house  in  Virginia  City,  ready  to  sound 
certain  signals  known  only  to  the  "  101,"  a  mystic  organ- 
ization of  recent  but  ominous  growth.  As  Berard  lightly 
leaped  from  his  horse,  he  stumbled  and  fell  upon  his  face. 


ADMINISTERING    UPON    THE    ESTATE.  63 

Something,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  chilled  him  to  the 
marrow,  as  his  waiting  friend  hastily  drew  him  into  the 
cover  of  his  hut,  barred  the  door  and  then  blew  out  all  the 
lights.  "  Lay  low,  Steve,"  a  familiar  voice  cried.  "We 
are  already  watched,  and  there  are  large  bodies  of  men 
moving  around  the  streets." 

While  the  springing  hoofs  of  "  Strideaway  "  were  keep- 
ing time  to  Steve  Berard's  anxious  thoughts  as  he  neared 
Virginia  City,  Frederick  Wyman  sat  alone  in  his  room  at 
the  hotel  in  Gold  Hill.  He  was  greatly  disturbed.  He  had 
not  failed  to  note  the  colloquy  between  Berard  and  the 
barkeeper, and  the  clustering  of  heads  in  the  card  room,  as 
man  after  man  rode  into  the  yard,  in  somewhat  unseemly 
haste,  from  the  greater  town,  only  four  miles  away.  These 
men  were  mostly  of  the  order  of  the  human  * '  rapacidse. " 
Haggard-eyed,  anxious,  armed  to  the  teeth,  they  clustered 
together  in  the  private  card  room,  and  Wyman,  at  a  late 
hour,  noted  their  silent  departure  on  the  Steamboat 
Springs  road,  in  a  body  now  swelled  to  fifteen  or  twenty 
by  late  arrivals. 

' '  What's  up?  "  hazarded  Wyman  to  the  barkeeper,  as  they 
were  left  alone  in  the  deserted  bar-room.  Fred  had  quickly 
walked  around  Gold  Hill's  few  straggling  streets,  and  was 
astonished  to  see  several  mining  offices  and  business  houses 
brilliantly  lit  up,  and  bodies  of  earnest  men,  visible  in  the 
rooms  which  offered  the  only  places  of  public  assembly, 
at  Gold  Hill.  He  uneasily  returned  to  his  hotel,  and  it 
was  well,  for  two  armed  men  were  now  posted  at  each 
street  corner,  who  carefully  scrutinized  all  belated  travelers. 
The  hasty  departure  of  the  body  of  gamblers  and  all-round 
sporting  men  also  caused  Wyman  to  feel  uneasy.  He 
had  also  noted  the  exit  of  two  or  three  of  the  hostlers  of 
the  hotel  stable,  mounted  on  bare-back  steeds,  and  saw 
them  disappear  on  the  gallop  toward  Virginia.     He  never 


64  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

knew  that  these  private  scouts  were  skillfully  posted  on  the 
road  between  Virginia  City  and  Gold  Hill,  to  warn  the 
fleeing  adventurers  of  "Virginia,"  to  make  a  detour  and 
avoid  danger  at  Gold  HilL  The  "  101  "  had  blossomed 
about  four  hours  later  at  Gold  Hill  than  at  the  larger  end 
of  the  Comstock  cornucopia  of  gold  and  silver. 

But  the  barkeeper,  alert  and  active,  at  once  divined  that 
the  hollows  and  canons,  the  alkali  plains,  rolling  hills, 
straggling  forests  of  pine,  spruce  and  fir,  stretching  around 
the  "great  mining  camps,  offered  a  good  temporary  shelter 
to  the  surprised  men  of  leisure.  Cattle  ranches  abounded 
on  the  shores  of  Humboldt,  Mud,  Pyramid,  Carson  and 
Walker  lakes.  The  road  stations,  like  Holman's  Ranch, 
were  also  friendly  hiding  places.  The  shores  of  beautiful 
Lake  Tahoe,  that  sparkling  diamond  flashing  in  the  bosom 
of  the  Sierras,  were  thickly  lined  with  wood-cutters'  camps. 
Here  the  Knights  of  the  Green  Cloth,  with  full  purses,  could 
hide  till  they  might  safely  join  their  friends  in  Carson 
City,  Reno,  Truckee,  or  even  Nevada,  Placerville  and 
Sacramento. 

"I  will  save  as  many  of  the  boys  as  I  can,"  the  man  of 
mixtures  regretfully  vowed.  For  he,  alone,  knew  that 
" Brown's  mistake"  had  brought  on  the  public  spasm  of 
virtue  predicted  by  the  genial  Andy  Bowen.  When 
Wyman  questioned  him,  the  barkeeper  busied  himself  at 
a  symmetric  rearrangement  of  the  multicolored  fluids  of 
the  long  bar,  the  shrine  of  Bacchus.  "I  don't  know," 
he  carefully  answered.  "  Some  racket  at  Virginia  City. 
We  will  know  all  in  the  morning." 

Wyman  sat  late  in  his  room  that  night.  He  was  in  a 
moody  despair.  Before  Berard  galloped  away,  a  loosely 
contrived  agreement,  signed  at  the  dictation  of  Berard, 
gave  him  the  colorable  possession  of  the  mine,  under  pre- 
tense of  the  extension  of    shaft  and  tunnel.     In  return  for 


ADMINISTERING    UPON    THE    ESTATE.  65 

this,  Frederick  Wyman  held  the  check  of  Steven  Berard, 
od  the  Agency  of  Wells,  Fargo  &  Co. ,  for  ten  thousand 
dollars.  "  This  will  make  you  feel  safe,  Fred,"  roughly 
said  Berard,  '  <  and  if  you  need  funds  at  once,  you  can  get 
it  cashed  here  in  Gold  Hill."  With  a  simple  directness, 
Steve  had  called  in  the  proprietor  of  the  "Virginia  House." 
This  magnate,  who  sat  by  his  stove  in  a  dignified  silence  all 
day,  broken  only  by  trips  to  the  bar,  or  a  chat  with  some 
mining  magnate,  said,  as  he  looked  at  the  check, "  Certainly, 
sir;  Mr.  Berard's  check  is  always  good!  If  you  stay  here, 
telegraph  to  the  paying  teller  at  Virginia  to  wire  me  it  is 
O.  K.,  and  then  I'll  cash  it  myself.  I  want  to  send  a  remit- 
tance down  to  San  Francisco.  I*have  the  gold  here."  By 
a  hazard  of  fate  the  night  operator  had  worked  this  very  dis- 
patch through  before  the  lines  of  the  "  101  "  were  closed 
around  the  two  cities. 

There  were  so  many  thoughts  chasing  each  other  through 
the  borderer's  brain  that  he  could  not  sleep.  In  vain  he 
tried  the  comfort  of  his  cigar  case  and  pocket  flask. 
Loud  colloquy,  the  noise  of  galloping  hoofs,  and  a  growing 
excitement  below,  worried  him  until  he  fell  asleep  by  mere 
exhaustion  of  his  nervous  forces.  He  had  moved  his  cot 
bed  away  from  the  windows,  barricaded  the  door  with 
pieces  of  the  furniture,  and  reconnoitered  the  easy  descent 
to  the  stable  yard.  By  his  side  lay  his  own  heavy  Colt 
revolver,  and  also  a  pocket  edition  of  "Colt  on  Self- 
Def ense. "  It  had  flashed  over  him  that  the  sifting  of  the 
wheat  and  chaff  might  have  commenced  at  last!  That  the 
sheared  sheep  had  decided  to  trample  down  the  goats,  and 
that  the  telegraph  poles  might  be  decorated  with  their 
unnatural  fruit,  so  common  to  the  domains  of  Judge  Lynch. 
"Thank  God,  I  am  not  openly  identified  with  Steve," 
was  Wyman's  only  grain  of  comfort  in  these  ugly  night 
reflections.     As    he   closed    his    eyes,   true  to  the  Gallons 


66  MISS    DEVEREIX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

egoism  of  his  shallow  nature,  Wyman  murmured,  "I 
wonder  if  the  check  will  go  through  all  right."  Selfish  to 
the  last! 

Morning  brought  with  it  several  matters  of  more  than 
passing  interest  to  the  "  surviving  partner."  The  news 
that  only  the  mails  and  necessary  official  travelers  were 
allowed  to  enter  Virginia  City,  and  a  dispatch  from  the 
paying,  teller  of  Wells,  Fargo  &  Co.  that  the  check 
"properly  endorsed"  was  "good."  Both  these  things 
excited  Wyman,  and  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  he 
learned, through  the  personal  telegram  of  the  hotel  keeper, 
that  Steven  Berard  was  not  at  the  Golden  Eagle.  "Not 
here;  town  in  uproar;  Vigilantes  in  charge,"  were  the 
ominous  words.     And  Steven!     Where  was  he? 

All  that  day  and  night,  Frederick  Wyman  deceived  him- 
self with  the  false  hope  that  Steve  Berard  had  been  warned 
away  by  his  attendant  daemon,  and  was  lurking  in  safety 
until  the  sudden  storm  would  blow  over  Before  the  Gold 
Hill  agency  of  the  great  money  monopoly  of  the  Pacific 
coast  closed  its  doors  that  day,  Frederick  Wyman  saw  his 
ten  thousand  dollars  deposited  in  the  hotel  safe  in  two 
sealed  bags.  "  I  shall  stay  with  you  here  for  some  little 
time,"  he  remarked,  writh  that  lofty  air  which  the  posses- 
sion of  the  "  coin  of  the  realm  "  always  imparts. 

Fred  Wyman  saw  at  once  that  he  was  the  object  of  some 
lingering  suspicion  at  Gold  Hill.  His  presence  with  Steve 
Berard  had  been  noted,  and  he  was  without  the  pale  of  the 
sympathy  of  the  crafty  barkeeper.  For,  Berard  had  lightly 
remarked:  "  A  good  fellow,  private  friend  of  mine,  can't 
trust  him,  for  he's  got  no  nerve.  Besides,  he's  not  square 
with  the  sporting  men."  So,  all  of  Wyman' s  queries  were 
baffled,  until  the  liquor  seller  gruffly  turned  at  last  and 
wearied  out,  remarked:  "Find  out  for  yourself!  I'm  not 
an  intelligence  office." 


ADMINISTERING     UPON    THE    ESTATE.  67 

Wyman  grew  ominously  restless  at  heart.  "lam  safe 
at  any  rate,"  mused  the  man  of  the  " Mariquita."  "I've 
got  money  enough  for  a  year.  Steve  will  surely  find  the 
way  out,  even  if  they  have  trapped  him  in  Virginia.  He's 
'cuter  than  a  coyote." 

Alas!  "  The  pitcher  had  gone  too  often  to  the  well." 
That  night,  while  Frederick  Wyman  pored  over  a  dog- 
eared copy  of  the  "Count  of  Monte  Cristo"  he  had  picked 
up,  Steven  Berard  was  lying  hidden  in  a  little  "dug-out," 
hollowed  under  the  floor  of  his  sporting  friend's  cabin. 
A  couple  of  mutely  faithful  Piute  squaws  watched  the 
cabin  and  barn  where,  in  a  "  lean-to  "  shed,  the  graceful 
' '  Strideaway  "  was  hidden  among  a  dozen- tethered  mules. 
There  were  three  other  men  hidden  there  and,  though 
armed,  they  lay  breathless  in  their  concealment,  as  a  sudden 
domiciliary  visit  of  the  '  'Vigilantes"  drew  out  nothing  from 
the  poor  Indian  women,  whose  vacant  eyes  only  stared  in 
wonder  at  the  armed  intruders.  A  sortie  of  one  of  the 
women  before  nightfall,  disclosed  the  ugly  fact  that  five  or 
six  swaying  forms  dangled  from  convenient  poles  or  trust- 
worthy timbers  around  town.  -  The  dance  halls,  gambling 
houses,  and  Paphian  resorts  were  all  shrouded  in  darkness. 
As  for  "the  fraternity,"  the  places  where  "their  feet 
were  beautiful  on  the  mountains,  knew  them  no  more." 

The  Indian  spy  could  not  divine  that  some  fifty  of  the 
<  'ungodly"  were  then  herded  as  prisoners  in  a  strong  powder 
magazine,  under  a  heavy  guard;  that  the  gambling  houses 
had  been  wrecked,  and,  alas!  the  patent  " faro  box "  of 
Steven  Berard  was  a  secret  no  longer!  Though  he  did  not 
"materialize,"  there  were  murmurs,  loud  and  deep,  among 
those  who  had  connected  the  personal  « '  dealing"  of 
Berard  with  their  recent  losses,  thus  violating  the  friendly 
fluctuations  of  the  wavering  smiles  of  the  "  painted  ladies." 
Several  of  the  "reformers"  had  "gone   broke"    recently 


68  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQU1TA. 

in  an  illogical  manner.  Alas!  The  social  prominence  of 
Berard,  his  haughty  parade  of  the  "trotter,"  the  swell 
"  turn  out,"  the  mouse-eyed  French  "Madame,"  all  this 
was  an  incentive  to  his  capture.  And,  the  crooked  faro 
dealing! 

"See  here!"  said  White-headed  Steve,  at  last,  as  he 
twisted  his  cramped  limbs  around.  "I'm  not  going  to 
stay  in  this  dammed  hole  to  freeze  to  death.  They  could 
easily  burn  us  out.  We  would  be  shot  like  dogs  here  if 
caught.     I  will  try  a  straight  run  for  it." 

"For  God's  sake,"  whispered  "  Hell-fire  Hennessey,"  so 
baptized  from  his  favorite  "three  star"  tipple.  "They'll 
get  your  scalp  sure,  Steve.  Better  lay  low  and  take  the 
chances  here.  Ye  were  always  popular  with  the  boys, 
maybe  they  won't  hang  you." 

"  We  owe  this  all  to  that  crazy  brute  'Brown,' "  growled 
"Deaf  Burke,"  the  facial  counterpart  of  that  celebrated 
pugilist.  A  unanimous  explosion  of  triplicate  curses,  deep 
if  not  loud,  accentuated  this  true  remark.  At  that  moment, 
it  was  a  matter  of  utter  indifference  to  Brown  himself, 
for  the  usually  inoffensive  Mr.  Henry  Van  Side  had  emptied 
both  barrels  of  a  heavily  loaded  shotgun  into  the  desper 
ado  as  he  rode  into  a  stable,  still  stupid  from  the  effects  of 
the  debauch,  in  which  he  had  killed  a  stranger  without  a 
single  flash  of  memory  following  the  act.  -  He  had  led  his 
own  slayer  on  to  the  act  by  a  too  prophetic  remark,  as  to 
"  one  or  the  other  being  laid  out  when  they  next  met."  Mr. 
Brown's  last  remark, "  He's  got  me! "  was  perfectly  useless. ! 
It  "  lagged  superfluous "  in  the  memory  of  his  fellow 
citizens,  who  thought  of  the  lengthened  mortuary  cara 
van,  twenty-six,  or  more,  who  had  preceded  "Brown,"  as 
the  result  of  his  own  misdirected  energy. 

While  the  three  hidden  sports  "  trifled  with  "  his  name 
and  fanie,  Brown  was  sleeping  far  away  from  his  fathers. 


ADMINISTERING    UPON    THE    ESTATE.  69 

in  one  of  the  unknown,  unmarked  graves  of  western 
America.  To-day  they  hide  the  dust  of  those  who  "paint- 
ed the  town  red,"  in  their  never  returning  "halcyon  days." 

It  was  at  four  o'clock  in  the  still  morning  that  "  White- 
headed  Steve  "  crept  from  his  chilly  place  of  concealment 
in  the  dark.  A  few  hurried  words  of  adieu,  a  gripping 
of  blood-stained  hands,  and  he  was  gone.  The  warm- 
hearted Henuessey  had  thrust  his  brawny  fist  out  of  the 
dug-out  as  Steve  stretched  his  cramped  limbs. 

"  Take  my  pistol,  old  boy.  Ye  may  need  it! "  the  gen- 
erous Celt  huskily  cried. 

"  You're  a  good  fellow,  Mike,- but  I  don't  want  it.  I'm 
fixed,"  and  only  the  whisper,  "So  long,  boys,  take  care  of 
.yourselves,"  reached  them,  as  Berard  crawled  to  the  stable 
through  the  darkest  shadows.  His  saddle  and  bridle,  hid- 
den in  the  straw,  were  easily  reached.  A  familiar  hand 
laid  on  "  Strideaway's  "  glossy  neck  quieted  her  antics. 

The  four  men  listening  under  the  cabin  floor  only  heard 
the  light  spring  as  if  of  a  panther's  feet,  as  the  blood  mare 
daintily  picked  her  way  out  of  the  icy  stable  yard.  Rid- 
ing lightly,  with  no  needless  weight,  Steven  Berard  slipped 
his  huge  dragoon  revolver  around  to  the  front.  His 
"navy"  was  thrust  in  his  breast,  and  a  score  of  loose  cart- 
ridges were  in  the  pockets  of  his  shooting  coat.  Beyond 
a  flask  and  a  few  cigars,  the  only  other  weight  he  carried 
was  the  packet  of  papers  rifled  from  the  dead  body  of  the 
luckless  Devereux. 

He  caught  a  gleam  from  his  costly  diamond  rings  as  he 
swung  himself  into  the  saddle.  "Shall  I  throw  them 
away?  "  He  smiled  faintly,  "  Here  goes  for  luck!  "  and, 
then,  he  boldly  rode  out  into  the  silent  cross  streets.  "  I 
can  get  down  on  the  bench  below  the  mines,  slip  through 
Grizzly  Canon,  and  skirt  the  Carson  river  to  the  north  and 
west.     These  fellows  will  be  all  watching  on  the  Gold  Hill 


70  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MAEIQUITA. 

road  and  the  big  streets."  Lightly  springing  aside  from 
the  scattered  boulders,  the  thoroughbred  dropped  nimbly 
down  the  cross  street  to  the  bench  below  the  town.  A 
ten  minutes'  fast  trot  along  a  well-known  bare  spot 
brought  the  intrepid  fugitive  to  the  entrance  of  lonely 
Grizzly  Canon.  There,  across  his  path,  sweeping  down 
from  its  parent  vein,  the  river  fragments  of  the  mother 
"  lead  "lay,  hiding  the  treasures  of  the  virgin  "  Mari- 
quita." 

"I  have  fooled  them,"  he  thought,  as  he  gathered  up 
his  reins.  "I've  now  got  a  dead  thing.  I  can  write 
to  Wyman.  He  will  let  the  mine  lie,  and  I'll  come  back 
when  this  thing  blows  over,  and  dig  out  all  that  fat  stuff 
hidden  here."  The  man's  eyes,  keen  as  a  Comanche's, 
were  peering  out  into  the  gloom,  and  his  hand  was  closed 
on  his  heavy  revolver,  carried  cocked  and  at  a  poise.  The 
blood  mare  threw  up  her  graceful  head  wildly  with  a 
snort,  as  two  dark  figures  rose  suddenly  up,  crying,  "  Halt! 
Halt!" 

The  maddened  racer  dashed  down  the  pass  as  Steve 
Berard  fired  quickly  right  and  left,  point  blank  into  the 
faces  of  the  men,  now  almost  at  the  mare's  head !  A  groan 
followed  him  down  the  echoing  canon.  He  turned  with  a 
shout  of  mocking  triumph,  as  he  swept  around  the  narrow- 
ing bend  of  the  gorge  below.  Into  the  full  light  of  a  bonfire 
blazing  before  the  deserted  cabin  of  Robert  Devereux,  Steven 
Berard  galloped,  blinded  by  the  lurid  flash.  There  were 
sudden,  hurrying  forms.  A  deafening  volley  from  shot- 
guns and  rifles  rang  out.  When  the  gallant  mare  sank 
down  on  the  stony  sward,  throwing  her  head  from  side 
to  side  in  her  dying  agonies,  her  desperate  master  lay 
crushed  to  the  ground  under  her,  with  his  "Colt's  dragoon  " 
still  clenched  in  the  bony  hand,  where  the  gambler's  dia- 
monds flashed   back  the  light    of  the  pine  wood    torches. 


ADMINISTERING    UPON   THE    ESTATE.  71 

"  Who  is  it?  "  yelled  a  voice.  "  It's  Steve  Berard  himself. 
And,  by  God!  boys,  he  died  game."  Andy  Bowen  with  a 
sigh  dropped  the  butt  of  the  heavy  ducking  gun  he  car- 
ried, and  his  first  thought  was  a  hope  that  the  sixteen  buck- 
"shot  in  each  barrel  he  had  fixed  had  not  helped  the  general 
fusillade.  The  startled  mountain  owls  fled  away  affrighted 
and  the  wailing  night  winds  bore  away  the  last  words. 
"  Died  game!"   "  Died  game!  " 

So,  a  half  hour  later,  Berard  lay  cold  in  death  on  the  bunk 
in  the  cabin,  where  Robert  Devereux  had  often  dreamed  of 
the  locked  up  wealth  of  the  "  Mariquita."  Opposite  him, 
slept  the  guard  who  had  fallen  under  the  gambler's  unerr- 
ing aim  at  the  head  of  Grizzly  Canon.  In  the  passionless 
waxen  calm  of  the  two  faces,  no  one  could  trace  the  en- 
mity which  had  cut  them  off  in  the  very  prime  of  young 
manhood.  With  limp,  hanging  arms,  there  was  naught  to 
tell  of  the  difference  between  the  reformer  and  the  social 
outlaw.  It  was  all  the  same  at  last.  It  mattered  not," If 
this  were  Bill  or  that  were  Joe," — they  divided  the  per- 
sonal sovreignty  of  royal  Death ! 

Andy  Bowen  gazed  long  at  the  stern  face  of  "  White- 
headed  Steve. "  With  a  sudden  impulse,  he  covered  it  with 
a  handkerchief.  It  was  to  blot  out  the  appealing  memories 
of  old  days  when  they  had  "  called  the  turn"  or  "bet  on  the 
cases  "  together — Comrades  once.  ' '  He  was  a  game  sport, ' ' 
softly  remarked  big  Andy.  "And  a  determined  little 
cuss !  "  The  sigh  which  Andy  breathed  was  the  only  trib- 
ute to  the  departed;  save  a  sudden  heart  spasm  of  the  mouse 
eyed  "Madame,"  when  the  news  reached  her  later,  in  her 
own  hiding  place;  "Ah-h-h!  Cesbrigands!  Le  pauvre  Steve! 
II  me  traitait  toujours  en  prince." 

The  first  stage  after  the  interdict  of  the  "  101 "  was 
lifted,  bore  Frederick  Wyman  back  to  Virginia  City.  He 
was  without  news  of  the   "  threshing  out "  of  the  human 


72  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MAEIQUITA. 

straw,  and  the  continued  silence  of  Steven  Berard  was 
most  ominous.  Keenly  conscious  of  his  own  endangered 
position,  Wyman  kept  his  eyes  to  the  front  all  the  while, 
as  the  other  stage  passengers  exchanged  many  rumors.  A 
Sunday  silence  reigned  in  the  three  horizontal  streets  of 
Virginia  City,  as  the  stage  swept  up  to  the  "Golden 
Eagle,"  where  the  "local  "  line  always  left  its  passengers. 
But  for  the  puffing  of  the  steam  mills  down  on  the  Com- 
stock,  and  a  few  loitering  knots  of  men  on  side  streets, 
the  town  seemed  bodily  deserted.  For  no  man  knew 
where  the  scorpion  lash  of  the  "  101 "  would  strike  in  its 
next  fall.  It  was  impossible  for  "YVymail  to  ignore  the 
furtive  signals  of  big  "  Andy  Bowen,"  as  he  caught  sight 
of  Wyman 's  mechanically  composed  countenance. 

"  Get  yer  room,  quick,  my  boy,  I  want  to  talk  to  ye  in 
private,"  said  Bowen,  as  Fred  Wyman  registered  his  name 
prominently,  as  of  "Gold  Hill." 

Mean  at  heart,  he  was  now  a  not  innocent  Peter,  and 
most  desirous  of  denying  the  dangerous  man  who  had 
been  his  financial  savior.  .  "Send  me  up  a  bottle  of  the 
best  whisky  and  some  good  cigars,"  was  the  new  made 
capitalist's  order,  as  he  followed  a  frightened-looking 
negro  to  his  room.  Reform  seemed  to  have  lowered  the 
spirits  of  all  the  dwellers  on  Mount  Davidson!  The  ques- 
tion, "Who  next?  "  shook  many  a  burdened  conscience. 
Aware  of  a  violent  purgation  of  the  long-suffering  com- 
munity, still  Wyman  was  astonished  at  the  funereal  still- 
ness of  the  gay  town. 

When  Andy  Bowen  deposited  his  giant  bulk  in  a  cor- 
ner of  Wyman's  bed,  he  remarked,  "  Ye've  been  away 
some  time?  "  with  an  awkward  preparatory  flourish. 

Wyman,  eager  and  excited,  broke  in,  "Where's  Steve, 
now?     Is  he  all  right?" 

Andy  gazed  curiously  at  the  young  man,  and,  reaching 


ADMINISTERING    UPON    THE    ESTATE.  73 

for  the  bottle,  poured  out  a  liberal  reflection.  "As  to 
whar  he  is  now,  I  kin  tell  ye.  There's  about  ten  tons  of 
quartz  lay  in'  on  him  clown  there  in  the  canon  by  yer  old 
cabin.  Them  coyotes  finished  off  that  thousand-dollar 
horse  of  his,  and  they  were  sinkin'  a  shaft  after  poor  Steve, 
when  we  piled  them  rocks  on  him.  As  to  his  bein'  all 
right,  that  there's  a  matter  of  theological  opinion!  I  hev 
my  own  doubts !  An'  poor  Steve  can't  tell  us !  Fur  I  stood 
by,  when  he  an'  that  game  mare  came  thrashin'  down  in  a 
bunch,  both  of  'em  dead  as  door  nails.  Steve  died  as 
game  as  a  Pawnee  brave. " 

Fred  Wyman  staggered,  for  he  had  sprung  to  his  feet. 
The  ashen  pallor  of  his  face  and  his  trembling  lips  proved 
again  that  fatal  "lack  of  nerve,"  so  objectionable  in  the 
eyes  of  the  late  Steven  Berard. 

"What  killed  him?  "  faltered  Wyman. 

"  About  a  dozen  shotguns  an'  rifles  blazin'  away  bang 
at  ten  paces,"  coolly  answered  Andy,  as  he  reached  out  for 
a  cigar.  Crossing  his  legs,  Mr.  Bowen  apologetically  re- 
marked: "  You  see,  Wyman,  the  boys  were  bit  pretty  hard 
by  that  double-decked  fan  box  speculation  of  Steve's,  and 
they  all  had  it  in  for  him.  I'm  on  the  Executive  Com- 
mittee, an'  I  give  you  my  word  we  was  watching  the 
canon  for  a  run  out  of  some  of  the  other  sports  who  were 
in  hiding.  Poor  Steve!  He  run  right  into  a  hornets'  nest, 
but  he  died  game  as  a  wild  cat.  He  just  bored  Hank 
Duffy  plum  through  the  heart,  at  the  head  of  the  gully ! " 

Wyman's  eyes  were  gloomily  fixed  on  the  floor.  "  Who 
looked  out  for  him  and  buried  him  and  all  that?"  the 
young  borderer  queried,  for  he  was  anxious  to  know  of 
the  whereabouts  of  that  contract.  "lam  the  only  human 
being  left,  who  knows  the  secret  of  the  'Mariquita,'  I 
wonder  if  Steve  talked  to  old  Holman.  Probably  not." 
So  the  young  man  quickly  ran  over   the  chances. 


74  MISS    UEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQU1TA. 

Andy  Bowen,  with  some  pride,  slowly  said  as  he  rose: 
"We  all  did  the  square  thing  by  him.  As  I  knowed  him 
best,  the  boys  left  it  to  me  to  bury  him.  I  have  turned  in 
his  saddle  and  bridle,  his  shooting  arms  and  his  watch, 
chain  and  rings  to  the  Public  Administrator  here.  By  the 
way,"  and  the  great  hulking  fellow  fumbled  in  his  blanket 
coat,  "  there  was  a  bundle  of  old  mining  papers,  too,  and 
I  saw  yer  name.  He  had  them  hid  in  an  inside  breast 
pocket.  There  was  a  woman's  picture  an'  an  old  letter  or 
two  from  New  Orleans.  I  left  them  things  with  him,  and 
they're  lying  where  he  carried  them  always,  on  his  breast; 
only  it's  a  cold  deal  for  poor  Steve,  for  he's  played  his  last 
hand  out.  Now,  I've  got  to  go  and  report.  We're  goin'  to 
escort  all  the  bummers  out  of  these  yere  corporate  limits. 
That's  why  ye  see  the  burg  so  Sunday-like.  We  are 
going  in  for  a  virtuous  life,  you  bet." 

"Come  around  to-night  here,  and  talk  things  over," 
urged  Wyman  whose  fingers  twitched  convulsively  as  he 
fingered  the  bundle  of  papers. 

"I  will,  boy,"  good-humoredly  said  Andy,  over  his  part- 
ing glass;  "if  they  don't  send  me  off  on  this  yere  escort 
duty.  I  don't  want  to  go.  I've  done  enough  and,  besides, 
I'm  a  heavy  rider.  Don't  you  be  afeard  to  show  your- 
self in  town.  Your  name  came  upon  the  <  fancy  list,' 
and  a  dozen  of  us  all  spoke  up  and  said  you  were  a  dead 
square  honest  miner." 

"Thank  you,  Andy,"  cried  Wyman;  "I'll  do  you  a 
good  turn,  some  day." 

"  Whar's  yer  partner?"  called  out  Andy  as  he  turned  at 
the  stairs.      "Don't  see  him  round  any  more." 

"  Oh!  He  went  over  the  ridge.  He  may  not  come 
back.  I  may  buy  him  out,  "replied  Wyman  with  Ananias' 
dexterity.      "He's  too  delicate  for  hard  work." 

"  That  fool  will  soon  give  the  whole  town    this  last  in- 


ADMINISTERING    UPON    THE    ESTATE.  75 

vention  of  mine,"  mused  Frederick  Wyman,  as  he  locked 
the  door  and  spread  out  the  papers.  He  sprang  up  in  de- 
light as  he  read  them.   "  Safe  at  last!  "  he  cried  in  glee. 

Two  hours  later,  the  *  <  surviving  partner  M  walked 
briskly  to  the  nearest  stable,  and  then  rode  down  to  the 
"  Mariquita"  on  a  hired  mustang.  As  he  had  expected,  no 
one  now  lingered  near  the  deserted  shaft  or  the  neglected 
tunnel,  from  which  an  icy  rill  of  spring  thaw  was  flowing. 
"It's  all  right, "  the  lonely  man  whispered  to  himself. 
Steve's  watcher  was  frightened  away.  He  dared  not  descend 
the  canon  to  where  poor  old  Captain  Johnson  watched  the 
few  hundred  dollars  worth  of  rough  winter  outfit  left  in  the 
cabin.  No!  For  the  pale,  accusing  shade  of  Robert  Dev- 
ereux  lingered  by  that  creaking  door.  A  stone's  throw 
from  the  porch,  the  piled  gray  rocks  marked  where  the  bold 
disciple  of  Fortuna  lay  cold  in  death,  with  the  picture  of 
that  unknown,  still  beloved,  woman  in  far  away  New  Or- 
leans, moldering  on  his  dauntless  heart,  now  stilled  for- 
ever. 

Wyman  rode  smartly  back  to  the  Golden  Eagle.  In  his 
comfortable  room,  cheerful  with  its  light  and  blazing  fire, 
he  dreamed  of  the  golden  future,  as  the  blue  wreaths  of 
his  cigar  rose  over  him.  "It's  the  devil's  own  luck,"  he 
softly  chuckled.  « '  Steve  intended  to  hold  these  old  papers 
of  Devereux's  over  me.  He  must  have  robbed  that  poor 
fellow's  body." 

Wyman  rose  and  steadied  "that  shaky  nerve"  with  a 
good  pull  at  the  bottle.  "  There's  a  couple  of  letters,  too, 
from  his  wife.  By  Heavens!  I  will  go  down  to  San  Fran- 
cisco, myself.  Her  address  is  on  one  of  the  letters.  Ah ! "  he 
paused;  "  I  must  think.  Now,  I  will  trust  no  one.  I  need 
no  one.  I  will  administer  upon  the  estate;  yes,  quietly, 
and  distribute  it  to  myself.  She  probably  does  not  even 
know  the  name  of  the  'Mariquita.'  There's  a  whole  lot  of 


76  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

other  locations.  I  will  let  this  blow  quietly  over.  But 
I'll  build  a  new  cabin,  house  the  main  shaft  over,  bulk- 
head  up  the  tunnel,  and  open  the  mine  next  winter,  with 
Steve's  money.  I  have  got  my  contract  back!"  And  the 
ungrateful  scoundrel's  nerve  was  steadier,  as,  with  a  sly 
smile,  he  raised  his  glass:  "Here's  to  you,  Steve!  My  Part- 
ner Steve!  " 


JIM   THE    PENMAN.  11 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Jim  thb  Penman. 

A  week  after  the  return  of  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  from 
Gold  Hill,  the  "101  "  had  restored  the  normal  balance  of 
social  and  business  life  upon  the  Comstock  Lode.  The 
leading  citizens  of  business  importance  backing  the  author- 
ities, at  last  checked  the  sweeping  orders  of  the  "101." 
For,  strange  to  say,  Reform  was  now  beginning  to  outrun 
itself,  and  personal  spleen  was  already  hinted  at.  The  dis- 
covery of  several  outlying  mining  districts  also  drew  away 
many  of  the  adventurous.  The  sports,  warned  away, 
spread  afar  the  news  of  the  "virtuous  spasm,"  and  the 
weary  were  at  rest— for  indeed  the  wicked  ceased  to 
trouble.  The  daily  consumption  of  liquor  was  only  that 
good  steady  thirst,  which  never  rose  now  to  the  frenzy  of 
the  "  jamboree."  Even  Andy  Bowen  repented  his  undue 
prominence,  and  sought  a  temporary  obscurity  in  prospect- 
ing trips  to  Inyo,  Mono,  Reese  River,  Eureka  and  other 
shadowy  localities. 

The  sole  owner  of  the  Mariquita,  after  much  self-com- 
mune, decided  to  hurry  slowly.  He  limited  his  improve- 
ments to  a  substantial  structure  covering  the  shaft  and  a 
cheap  cabin  with  the  bulkhead  at  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel. 
Fortunate  in  securing  a  stolid  Swedish  emigrant  as 
watchman,  Wyman  felt  that  his  new  cabin  mate  was  harm- 
less, as  he  could  not  chatter.  To  ease  off  the  disappear- 
ance of  Devereux,  the  sly  plotter  still  allowed  u  Captain 
Johnson "  to  remain  in  charge  of  the  old  headquarters. 
Escorted  by  his  Scandinavian  man-at-arms,  Wyman  re- 
moved the  tools,  and  left  the  old  Indian  to  the  heirship  of 
the  food  and  rude  household  outfit.     But  once  did  he  him- 


*78  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE   MARIQUITA. 

self  enter  the  cabin,  and  then,  the  appealing  eyes  of  the  old 
Piute  soon  drove  him  out  with  a  quickly  beating  heart; 
for,  pointing  to  the  bunk  of  the  unreturning  partner,  the 
poor  aborigine,  in  sign  language  and  broken  Spanish,  sought 
for  news  of  his  absent  benefactor. 

Wyman  paced  the  floor  of  his  new  den  long  that  night. 
For  prudential  reasons  he  had  withdrawn  his  golden  de- 
posit from  the  hostelry  at  Gold  Hill.  It  was  his  turn  now 
to  triumph  over  the  once  haughty  barkeeper,  who  sought 
for  news  of  the  ultimate  adjustment  of  the  estate  of  the  late 
Steven  Berard.  "Find  out  for  yourself,"  remarked 
Wyman.      "  He's  as  near  to  you  as  he  is  to  me." 

After  returning  from  Grizzly  Canon,  Wyman  was 
sharply  questioned  at  the  postoffice  by  the  incumbent,  a 
man  of  some  little  discernment.  ' '  Look  here,  there  are  a 
lot  of  unclaimed  letters  here  now  for  your  partner  Dev- 
ereux.  Will  you  take  them  or  shall  I  send  them  on  East  to 
the  dead  letter  office?  "  Frederick  winced  as  he  answered, 
"I  can't  tell.  He  started  for  San  Francisco  and  was  to 
send  me  his  address.  We  have  only  left  now,  in  common, 
some  joint  locations  where  we  used  each  other's  names.  He 
was  a  queer,  uncertain  sort  of  a  chap,  and  he  may  have  got 
tired  and  thrown  up  the  sponge." 

But,  calm  as  was  his  face  when  he  left  the  office,  Wyman 
was  startled.  He  knew  that  several  pleading  letters  from 
the  anxious  wife  addressed  to  him  were  not  yet  answered. 
"The  king-pin  of  the  whole  thing  now  is  old  man 
Holman.  If  this  woman  would  stir  up  a  row  there,  I 
might  lose  all."  And  yet,  Wyman  dared  not  visit  the  den 
of  the  old  Mormon.     Fear  restrained  him! 

"This  old  brute  may  fear  to  be  mixed  up  in  the  doings 
of  the  Brown  and  Berard  gang.  If  I  set  my  foot  on  his 
stolen  domain,  he  might  put  me  quietly  out  of  the  way, 
for  his  own  safety.  I've  got  to  chance  it.  She  will  get 
tired  of  writing." 


JIM    THE    PENMAN.  79 

It  was  near  daylight  when  Wyman  decided  upon  his 
final  course.  "  I'll  keep  quiet,  ignore  all,  and  watch  the 
mine  for  a  season.  I  have  money  enough,  and  then,  in 
the  spring,  I  can  put  up  a  little  arrastra,  and  grind  out 
enough  to  build  a  ten-stamp  mill.  But — the  title,  the 
title!  I  must  cover  myself  in  some  way.  Possession  is 
one  thing.  If  this  development  continues,  I  may  yet  be 
forced  to  show  my  hand." 

And  then,  an  uneasy  desire  to  know  also  of  the  fate  of 
Devereux's  wife  and  child  began  to  gnaw  at  his  heart.  "  Can 
I  risk  a  secret  trip  to  San  Francisco?  I  might  carefully 
shadow  this  woman  and  see  what  her  present  surroundings 
are."  And  yet,  he  did  not  wish  to  visit  the  Panther  of  the 
Golden.  Gates  until  he  had  grasped  Fortune's  wheel  so 
firmly  that  he  should  be  borne  up  into  those  circles  of  lux- 
ury which,  open  to  the  millionaire  owner  of  the  "  Mari- 
quita,"  seen  but  dimly  as  yet  in  his  rosy  dreams,  were  as 
yet  a  "  terra  incognita,"  to  the  poor  prospector  who  watched 
every  flutter  now  of  the  faintly  upheld  "Stars  and  Bars," 
with  less  enthusiasm.  He  had  fashioned  out  in  his  mind 
a  successful  western  man.  In  the  keen,  fresh  intelligence 
of  his  unjaded  youth,  the  days  of  Gettysburg  and  Vicks- 
burg  had  tolled  the  knell  of  the  confederacy  for  him. 
"The  rebs  will  never  make  that  Washington  trip  now," 
he  sighed.  Frederick  Wyman  gave  up  at  last  the  verifi- 
cation of  Mr.  Robert  Toombs'  dream  of  "  hearing  the  roll 
of  his   slaves  called  under  the  Bunker  Hill  monument." 

"  It  was  a  little  premature,  this  war,"  mused  Wyman. 
"  I  must  drift  in  with  the  victorious  northern  sentiment 
here.  Non-committal  now,  I  can  come  out  '  truly  loyal ' 
later."  Again,  that  coarse,  sensual  sneer  on  the  pleasure- 
loving  lips.  "  I  will  wait  here  for  a  few  months  in  quiet. 
If  I  do  not  hear  further  from  this  woman,  I  can  then  slip 
down  to  San  Francisco  and  have  a  light  prospecting  mill, 


80  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

or  a  set  of  '  arrastra '  irons  sent  up  here.  Then,  in  a  few 
months,  I  can  take  out  enough  gold  to  set  me  up  for  good, 
like  a  gentleman.  But,no  partners!  I  have  had  enough  part- 
ners." Over  his  mind  came  the  prophetic  visions  of  the 
future.  "  I  will  show  them  what  a  millionaire  should  be! 
These  double  assays  can  not  lie.  And  the  experienced 
Steve  Berard  would  not  have  thrown  ten  thousand  dollars 
in  good  gold  '  chinks  '  away  on  me  for  nothing." 

"By  God!  what  a  windfall  of  luck  this  reform 
interlude  was  for  me.  It  squared  all  the  accounts  at 
once. "  The  young  man  lightly  filliped  his  ringing  glass. 
"If  I  have  no  nerve,  Mr.  Berard,  I  am  at  least  a  pretty  good 
1  stayer. '  I  have  all  the  cards,  and  the  deal  is  mine. 
Now,  to  play  my  own  lone  hand  against  the  world." 

He  cast  up  his  resources  carefully.  He  had  over  nine 
thousand  dollars  in  yellow  ' '  twenties  "  safely  hidden.  His 
eager  mind  returned  to  the  snug  boxes  of  thirty  thousand 
dollars  each,  neatly  ranged  behind  the  counters  of  Wells, 
Fargo  &  Co.  Those  invincible  battalions  of  Plutus. 
"  That's  the  stuff  to  make  men  bow,  and — and  women 
smile,"  he  murmured,  and  his  throat  grew  warm  with  a 
rising  flush  of  the  anticipated  pleasures  of  the  future. 
"  Only — only,  never  to  lose  my  head!  " 

Wyman  had  stumbled  upon  an  axiomatic  self-counsel. 
Though  no  magic  introspection  had  given  him  the  clue  to 
his  real  nature,  he  was  dimly  conscious  that  the  heart 
would  not  trouble  him  much.  The  high  tide  of  life 
flushed  his  veins,  and  at  the  gates  of  his  future  two 
nymphs  with  longing  eyes  waited.  Their  names  were 
Pleasure  and  Desire.  He  had  marked  the  clumsy  excesses 
of  the  few  prosperous  men  whom  he  had  seen  on  the  Corn- 
stock.  The  only  mark  of  their  higher  standing  seemed  to 
him  to  be  a  noisy  assumption,  a  floundering  about  as  of 
clumsy   beetles  fallen    into   honey.     A    more   prolonged 


JIM    THE    PENMAN.  81 

drunk,  a  little  more  reckless  gambling,  a  few  lurid  flashes 
of  display,  these  were  the  only  realizations  of  millionaire 
eminence  so  far  on  the  Comstock.  An  inflammation  in 
colored  vestments,  an  efflorescence  of  clustered  diamonds, 
cable  chains  and  huge  watches;  and  a  peculiar  desire  to 
meddle  with  other  men's  womenkind;  these  all  seemed 
strange  symptoms. 

Frederick  Wyman  raised  his  eyes  to  that  other  world, 
the  world  of  High  Life,  in  which  he  would  soon  shine 
with  the  veiled  romance  of  a  Claude  Melnotte — the  mys- 
terious power  of  a  Monte  Cristo.  "Men  shall  fear  me, 
women  shall  be  under  my  feet.  The  golden  bell  will  open 
their  closed  hearts!  "  And,  far  away  in  Fancy's  glass,  he 
saw  himself  a  crowned  god,  with  a  background  of  town 
house,  villa,  shooting  box,  club  honors,  horses,  yachts 
and  a  modish  circle.  "  One  must  be  a  gentleman  born,  to 
show  life  to  these  fellows,  but  I  will  do  it  in  style.  The  man 
who  will  rule  Virginia  City  must  be  silent,  pitiless,  alert, 
active!  He  must  sway  the  Stock  Board,  have  standing 
abroad,  social  and  financial.  Politicians  and  journalists 
must  woo  his  friendship,  and  his  appearance  in  society 
must  be  that  of  one  of  Nature's  noblemen.  Yes,  the  Mari- 
quita  is  the  golden  lever.  Then,  a  joint  control  in  San 
Francisco  and  Virginia  mining  circles,  a  name  in  New 
York,  Washington,  Paris,  London." 

The  sudden  sputter  and  extinguishment  of  the  miner's 
adamantine  "  sixes  "  which  lit  up  the  cabin  of  the  million- 
aire "  in  futuro,"  brought  him  to  his  bunk  in  a  sudden  re- 
call to  the  present.  "But,  there's  no  nonsense,"  he  solil- 
oquized as  he  drew  off  his  heavy  boots.  "The  whole 
thing  is  to  be  mine,  and  it  now  lies  buried  there,  in  the 
Mariquita." 

When  Wyman  awoke  the  next  day,  his  mind  was  alert 
and  active.     Not  even  the  gloomv  realism  of  a   breakfast 


82  MISS    DEVEREL'X    OF    THE    M  AKH»U  ITA. 

of  bacon,  beans,  black  coffee  and  saleratus  biscuits,  eased 
clown  by  golden  syrup,  could  depress  him.  He  good- 
humoredly  watched  his  one  henchman,  the  Swede,  who  ate 
manfully  of  the  provender,  and  thanked  the  God  of  the 
Swedes  that  it  was  there.  The  air  was  sweet  and  balmy.  Birds 
eschewed  the  basalt  crags  of  Mount  Davidson,  for  obvious 
reasons.  But,  faint  patches  of  green  were  now  every- 
where visible,  for  the  thousands  of  animals  and  hundreds 
of  pack  trains  had  carried  the  barley  and  oats  of  Califor- 
nia, by  fortuitous  accident,  far » over  the  Sierras.  The 
breeze  sweeping  from  far  silvery  Tahoe  was  redolent  of 
fir  and  balsam.  The  sunlight  gleamed  even  kindly  on  the 
stony  cuirass  of  the  old  mountain  giant. 

' *  Can  I  trust  this  chap?"  mused  Wyman.  "He  does 
not  talk,  but  he  may  think  in  his  own  cursed  lingo." 

An  hour  spent  while  sunning  himself  over  a  repeated 
cigar  as  he  gazed  at  his  mine  lying  there,  brought  all  Wy- 
man's  plans  to  a  head.  "  I  can  fix  up  this  tunnel  and  shaft, 
myself,  so  that  no  one  can  ever  get  near  the  hidden  ore.  I 
can  leave  such  debris  and  tell-tale  secret  marks,  that  a  glance 
will  show  me  that  all  is  well— that  nothing  has  been  dis- 
turbed. Patience,  silence,  and  only  a  few  months  more 
waiting.  If  the  confederacy  "  caves  in  "  this  fall,  there  will 
be  a  great  influx  to  the  Pacific  here  next  year.  Speculation 
will  boom,  for  then  the  Yankee  "shin-plaster"  money  will 
soon  flow  out  here.  I  am  safe  now,  and  I  will  be  safer  still 
in  three  months.  But  I  must  get  a  good  written  title  on 
record  in  some  way.  There's  the  rub,  to  make  all  the 
papers  sure.  There's  no  hurry,  but  I  must  get  a  clear  chain 
of  recorded  title  from  Devereux.  It  could  be  easily  done 
now,  while  all  is  yet  unsettled,  while  no  one  knows  of 
his  death." 

He  sat  down  on  a  huge  boulder  and  watched  the  fleecy 
clouds  sailing  high   over    the  jagged  peaks    of  the   gray 


JIM    THE    PENMAN.  83 

mountains  over  him.  "I  have  no  friend,  no  one  to  help 
me,  and  also,  no  enemies  to  bother  me.  All  that  I  can  do 
is  to  hide  this  thing  from  everyone  in  Devereux's  interest. 
If  I  only  had  some  one  to  help  me — to  play  off 
Devereux! " 

He  sprang  up.  A  sudden  thought  had  enlivened  the 
brooding  darkness  of  his  mind.  k<  Yes,  I  can  do  it  away 
from  here,  but  who  am  I  to  get  to  help  me?  It  must  be 
some  safe  outsider.  And,  I  ought  to  patch  this  thing  up,  so 
that  if  his  wife  makes  me  any  trouble  I  have  something  to 
show.  If  I  go  down  to  San  Francisco  I  must  be  ready  to 
bamboozle  her  some  way.  It  will  not  do  to  try  and  buy  her 
out.  Who  ever  knew  a  woman  to  be  manageable  about  sign- 
ing a  paper?  And,  it  would  also  admit  that  she  had  some 
rights.  If  there's  a  child  left,  a  minor  child,  that  thing 
might  follow  me.  If  I  could  only  make  that  bill  of  sale  of 
his  for  one  quarter  legally  cover  the  other  three-quarters — 
the  whole, — but  it  is  properly  recorded.  A  later  transfer! 
Yes,  of  the  balance,  before  the  wife  or  her  representatives 
can  ever  see  me.  For,  whatever  I  do,  I  must  stick  to  it 
through  thick  and  thin.  To  hold  the  'Mariquita'  now, 
when  no  one  wants  it,  is  very  easy,  but  when  she  smiles  out 
on  the  world,  there's  a  difference.  I  must  set  my  house  in 
order.  There's  one  good  thing.  There  have  been  three 
or  four  sets  of  Recorders  and  Clerks  since  I  registered  my 
first  bill  of  sale.  No  one  up  there  now  knows  either  me 
or  Devereux.  By  Jove!  I'll  go  up  to  town  and  take  a 
look  at  the  situation. 

High  noon  found  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  seated  at  the 
table  of  the  Golden  Eagle,  after  a  very  guarded  visit  to 
the  new  Recorder's  office.  The  spasm  of  virtue  which 
had  so  markedly  shortened  the  expectations  of  life  of  a 
score  of  "  sports, "and  brought  woe  to  the  decollete  bosoms 
of    the  Paphian  nymphs  of  the  burg,  had  also  wafted  the 


84  MISS    DEVEKEUX    OF    THE    MARIQU1TA. 

records  of  the  "lead"  from  their  saloon  domicile  to 
a  tiny  office  now  sacred  to  themselves.  For  three  days 
after  the  "  101  "  episode,  the  men  avoided  the  gin  palaces, 
for  yet  other  three  days,  they  slipped  in  at  the  back  door; 
for  yet  other  clouded  days,  they  dodged  in  at  side  doors, 
but  now,  the  average  citizen  wandered  in  with  a  shameless 
brow  and  quenched  his  thirst,  regardless  of  '  *  les  moeurs 
publiques." 

The  crown  of  Virtue  sat  most  uneasily  on  the  head  of 
fair  young  Virginia  City,  the  wild  mountain  nymph,  and 
even  now  it  had  tilted  a  bit  sideways.  The  purple  mus- 
tached  fraternity  were  not  unrepresented,  though  the  voice 
of  the  turtle  was  a  still  small  voice.  Gleaming  eyes  again 
shone  out  as  fixed  stars,  along  "C"  street  and  "I"  street, 
behind  unmistakable  zinc  plaques,  freshly  engraved, 
"Coralie,"  "  Mamie,"  "Cleopatra,"  et  id  omne  genus. 
There  were  no  swans  in  the  air,  but  Venus  Victrix,  peep- 
ing out,  transfixed  the  passer-by  with  her  alas!  too  prom- 
inent charms  and  painted  siren  smile,  from  the  semi-shel- 
ter of  diaphanous  curtains.  The  minions  of  order  were 
not  there  to  spy  out  the  rosy  land  where  the  flag  of  sin 
still  gaily  fluttered  in  the  wooing  spring  breeze.  As  Andy 
Bowen  remarked  vaguely,  "  Things  seem  to  be  coming 
around  all  right !  " 

Wyman  met  him  as  he  emerged  from  the  office  of  the 
Recorder,  where  an  alert  man  of  thirty  was  neatly  extend- 
ing the  verbiage  of  a  pile  of  new  transfers  in  several 
freshly  prepared  books.  The  superior  air  of  this  new 
functionary  at  once  struck  the  owner  of  the  "  Mariquita." 

"Is  that  the  new  Recorder?  "  carelessly  asked  Wyman, 
as  he  led  Andy  out  of  the  "Stonewall  Jackson"  saloon 
after  a  mighty  drink — a  "  housewarmer,"  the  great 
giant  termed  it,  as  he  spoke  of  his  drinkless  exile  in  his 
long  trip  afield. 


JIM    THE    PENMAN.  85 

"Thatchapis  a  new  arrival,  sir,"  cried  big  Andy.  "And 
all  the  front  name  he's  got  is  '  Jim  the  Penman.*  He's  a 
dandy  scribe,  that's  what  he  is,  and  our  local  business  is  in- 
creasing, so  that  the  Recorder  has  two  or  three  extra  fellows 
at  the  records.  But,  this  fellow  is  the  boss.  I  saw  him 
the  other  night  write  down  a  half-dozen  fellows'  names  on 
a  bet,  three  times  each,  mixing  them  with  a  slip  written 
at  the  same  time,  by  themselves.  An  outsider  marked  all 
the  real  ones  and  the  fellows  were  all  stuck  for  the  drinks 
for  the  crowd  on  their  own  mistakes.  He's  an  eastern 
chap,  too,  and  a  right  good  fellow." 

Frederick  Wyman  carried  off  only  a  part  of  Andy 
Bo  wen's  harangue,  and  yet,  he  turned  back  to  gaze  again 
at  the  cool  self-possessed  stranger  whose  flying  fingers  were 
the  wonder  of  the  clumsy  Nevadans.  "How  did  he  get 
here?  Is  he  an  outcast?"  was  Wyman's  last  remark,  a 
quick  suggestion  of  his  own  private  needs. 

"Oh!  No!  He  seems  all  right.  He  was  in  the  navy 
somewhere  East,  and  had  to  give  up  the  sea.  Looks  con- 
sumptive.    I  guess  he  came  out  here  for  a  change  of  air." 

Andy  sauntered  away,  leaving  the  sly  Wyman  standing 
lost  in  thought.  The  ' '  change  of  air  ' '  impressed  him  as  the 
cabalistic  letters — "  G.  T.  T." — on  the  door  of  the  hidden 
skeleton  cupboard  for  years  indicated  that  the  absent  owner 
thereof  had  "Gone  To  Texas!  "  Whether  crime,  woman, 
dissipation  or  heartbreak  sent  Mr.  James  Walter  Hooper 
over  to  Washoe,  his  contemporaries  did  not  know,  and  cared 
still  less  to  ask  ;  for  the  mental  storehouses  for  the  local 
euphemistic  lies  were  overcrowded. 

"Faith,  Hope  and  Charity,  but  the  greatest  of  these  is 
Charity."  This  wholesome  truth  was  verified  among  the 
ungodly,  for  an  absence  of  Faith  in  their  shadowy  biog- 
raphies, was  more  than  atoned  for  by  the  mantle  Charity, 
which  left  each  man's  past  to   mock   him  alone,   with  its 


§6  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MAR1QV1TA. 

unrevealed  ghastliness.  Any  story  was  acceptable,  provided 
like  a  duelists'  sword  that  it  was  of  the  right  length. 

Mr.Wyman,  secret  capitalist  and  budding  aristocrat,  did 
not  return  to  his  dinner  of  corned  beef,  cabbage,  potatoes 
au  naturel,  and  canned  peaches.  He  lingered  at  the  Golden 
Eagle  for  a  swell  dinner.  A  chance  meeting  in  the  gloam- 
ing with  Andy  Bo  wen  favored  the  saturnine  Wyman  with 
the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  James  Walter  Hooper.  To  the  as- 
tonishment of  the  casual  loungers,  in  a  week,  the  penman 
was  an  inmate  of  Wyman's  neat  cabin  at  the  head  of 
Grizzly  Canon. 

"Ye  see,"  dilated  Patsey  Casey,  the  gay  Ganymede  of 
the  Golden  Eagle  bar;  "they're  both  high-toned  loike, 
slick  up  on  Sundays,  and  do  the  style  of  a  Lord  Lieutenant. 
They  are  the  two  bloods  of  the  Comstock,  and  I  suspect 
aych  of  them  of  having  been  kicked  out  of  some  college 
or  another.  We're  proud  of  them,  and  they  make  a  fine 
show." 

But,  Patsey  Casey,  dealer  in  hell-fire  poisons,  was  not 
gifted  with  the  "  higher  light."  Wyman,  desiring  to  care- 
fully guard  his  own  personal  secrets,  studiously  held  aloof 
from  all  the  little  cliques  of  the  streets.  He  was  now 
watching  for  the  turn  of  the  tide  in  every  way,  and  his 
breath  often  came  quickly  as  he  realized  how  his  careless 
intimacy  with  Steve  Berard  might  have  ended  in  his  tassel- 
ling  a  telegraph  pole.  In  truth,  it  was  only  his  fatal  lack 
of  cool,  ready,  reliable  nerve  that  had  caused  Berard  to 
abandon  the  hope  of  making  Wyman  a  useful  brother  of 
the  green  cloth.  Nimble,  sly,  plausible,  taking,  in  his 
manners,  and  practicable,  he  was  not  yet  entirely  master 
of  himself.  His  vulgarly  timid  nature  demanded  one  foot 
on  solid  ground  before  he  could  play  the  brave  man. 

Intuitively,  Wyman  felt  that  this  self-contained  and  ac- 
complished stranger  might  be  useful  to  him  later.     It  was 


JIM    THE    PENMAN.  87 

nearly  a  month  after  they  had  shared  the  same  roof  shelter 
before  Hooper  revealed  even  a  part  of  his  life  story.  His 
air  of  semi-discipline,  his  neat  manner,  and  ready  aplomb 
bore  out  the  navy  story.  Busied  daily  in  his  copyist 
labors, he  was  very  companionable  with  Wyman,for  both  of 
them  shunned  the  grosser  pleasures  of  the  tawdry  streets. 
Wyman's  cold  economy  was  born  of  ambition  and  prudent 
fear;  the  other  man's  of  necessity. 

Hooper  bore  his  thirty  years  very  jauntily,  and  fresh, 
blonde  and  steady-eyed,  he  betrayed  no  nervous  anxiety 
save  in  his  haunting  the  postoffice  for  letters  which  never 
came.  His  smooth  brow  was  unruffled, but,  his  waiting  look 
impressed  even  the  watchful  Wyman.  The  firm  lips,  hid- 
den with  a  sweeping  mustache,  still  guarded  the  secrets  of 
his  past,  and  such  modest  wardrobe  as  he  had,  was  of  the 
order  of  the  children  of  fashion.  His  personal  baggage 
was  most  shadowy,  and  yet,  with  a  quiet  dignity,  he  gently 
declined  Wyman's  offer  of  money  assistance. 

"I  will  save  enough  to  get  me  over  to  San  Francisco, 
and  then,  I  will  get  a  position  in  some  one  of  the  mer- 
chant steamer  lines.  I  detest  these  low  brutes.  I  have 
always  handled  money,  not  men  of  this  calibre.  I  would 
be  entirely  useless  here." 

The  guarded  silence  of  the  facile  stranger  visitor  was  still 
unbroken  when  two  months  later  he  quietly  said  to  Wyman, 
"I  am  going  down  to  the  Bay;"  for,  the  long  looked  for 
letter  had  at  last  arrived. 

Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  started  at  the  sudden  announce, 
ment,  for  a  long  cherished  plan  had  slowly  matured  in  his 
mind.  Cold  and  egoistic,  he  feared  to  trust  to  any  human 
being.  He  had  now  finished  all  his  labors  of  safety  around 
the  mine  and,  the  desire  to  fathom  the  history  of  the  dead 
Devereux's  widow,  the  pressing  need  to  set  up  his  legal 
title  before  opening  the  hidden  mine,  now  weighed  on  him. 


88  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"By  Heaven!  I  must  soon  get  machinery  on  this  lead  and, 
I  do  not  dare  yet  to  show  my  hand." 

He  was  now  familiar  with  all  of  Hooper's  clerical  dex- 
terity. "I  only  showed  these  grinning  fools  what  I  could 
do,  as  a  means  of  getting  temporary  work,"  said  Jim  the 
Peuman,  "  but,  I'm  ready  for  the  road  now,  and  I  would 
not  stay  here  for  any  ordinary  temptation."  The  color 
flamed  in  his  face.  It  was  a  singular  visage.  A  peculiar 
glittering  crafty  twinkle  of  the  eyes,  or  aifected  carriage  of 
the  stylish  head,  an  aristocratic  over-loading  with  that 
obtrusive  element,  the  nose,  gave  him  the  air  of  a  petit 
maitre.  His  ceremonial  and  lisping  manner  set  up  an 
invincible  barrier  between  him  and  the  hairy  giants  of  the 
sledge  and  drill. 

Wyman  breathed  hard  as  he  heard  the  sudden  announce- 
ment. He  knew  now  that  in  all  the  ways  of  the  world 
which  he  longed  to  conquer,  Hooper  was  a  Past  Grand 
Master,  where  he  was  as  yet,  only  a  tyro.  He  knew  that  a  steel 
spring  nerve  lurked  behind  the  stranger's  folded  veil.  In 
his  dreams,  he  had  looked  to  this  man  as  a  possible  tool. 
That  idea  had  now  vanished.  But,  could  he  obtain  his 
help  in  any  way?  Fearing  to  break  the  ice,  he  had  so  far 
remained  quiet.  "He  might  have  fixed  up  those  records 
for  me,"  thought  Wyman,  with  a  pang  at  heart.  He 
merely  waited  for  an  opening,  as  he  said :  < '  I'm  sorry  to 
lose  you,  I  hope  to  meet  you  soon  in  San  Francisco.  What 
takes  you  down  there,  some  business  certainly? 

Jim  the  Penman  gazed  steadily  at  the  younger  man. 
"You've  been  very  kind  tome  Wyman.  I  don't  mind 
telling  you.  It  was  a  woman  sent  me  out  here  to  this 
devilish  stone  quarry,  and  it's  a*woman,  the  same  woman, 
who  takes  me  away. "  His  eyes  gleamed  with  that  passion 
which  lights  up  the  windows  of  the  lost  soul  showing  the 
never-dying  fire  within. 


JIM    THE    PENMAN.  89 

11  The  same  woman?  "  cautiously  queried  Wyman. 

"  Yes,  the  very  same!  She's  coming  out  on  the  steamer. 
I  had  to  leave  her  in  New  York,  but  now  it's  different." 
And,  the  elegant  and  impassive  James  Walter  Hooper  then 
paced  the  floor  with  the  springy  tread  of  a  panther.  For,  in 
his  veins  was  burning  the  subtle  philtre  of  a  love  which  had 
gnawed  into  his  very  soul,  and  eaten  up  in  its  shriveling 
flames, all  that  he  ever  knew  of  the  paltry  bird-cage  meshes 
we  call  principle  or  honor.  When  did  they  ever  avail 
against  "  Her  bright  smile?"  The  one  who  comes  to  craze, 
to  dazzle,  to  rule  in  imperious  wickedness,  or  roving 
fancy. 

"When  do  you  go  down?"  continued  Wyman,  his 
eyes  gleaming. 

"  To-morrow,  I  will  get  my  poor  wages.  I  take  to-mor- 
row night's  stage  to  Reno,"  said  the  penman. 

"  I'll  go  on  as  far  as  Truckee  with  you,"  cried  Wyman, 
"  I  have  some  business  over  there." 

"  It's  my  last  chance,"  he  thought,  under  his  breath; 
and  then,  Hooper's  last  remarks  gave  him  the  needed  clue. 
The  way  was  open  at  last.  "Yes,  he  can  do  what  he 
wants  to  safely  there,  over  the  line,  in  California." 

All  that  night,  Wyman  watched  the  regular  breathing 
of  the  man  who  evidently  was  dreaming  of  a  reunion  of 
passionate  love,  a  love  which  never  stopped  to  dally  in  its 
flood  of  burning  feeling  with  the  foolish  trammels  of 
guilt  or  innocence.  For,  what  is  guilt  when  the  one 
bosom  of  the  world  pillows  a  lover's  head?  "  Some  wan- 
dering star  who  has  forgotten  her  home  orbit,"  sneered 
Frederick  Wyman,  who  could  not  imagine  why  any 
woman  should  cross  the  tropics  in  search  of  Jim  the  Pen- 
man. "  He  is  poor,  but  as  sharp  as  a  flash.  Can  it  be  some 
scheme?  Counterfeiting?  Some  new  modern  swindle? 
No!  In  such  cases,  the  preliminary  money  is  ever  forthcom- 


90  MISS    DEVEBEUX    OF    THE    MABIQU1TA. 

ing.  It  may  be  that  he  ran  away  to  escape  a  sudden  personal 
vengeance  or  to  save  her  name.  Perhaps,  there  was  a  hus- 
band or  a  child  to  get  rid  of.  But  I  must  watch  him,  use 
him  and  a  few  hundred  dollars  might  be  a  godsend  to  him 
now.      Shall  I  risk  it?" 

Mr.  James  Walter  Hooper  had  made  several  furtive 
character  studies  of  his  host  during  this  stay.  He  mused 
as  he  watched  Wyman.  "This  man  is  hiding  something 
from  the  world.  His  pent-up  nature  is  eager  to  burst 
through  some  trammels.  What  are  they?  What  restrains 
him  here?  Young,  plausible,  active,  unfettered,  and  yet, 
he  lingers  in  an  apparently  aimless  insincerity  of  purpose 
here.  He  is  following  me  down  to  Truckee  for  a  hidden 
reason.  And,  that  same  reason  will  at  last  unlock  his 
tongue." 

James  Walter  Hooper  had  watched  many,  many  schemes 
of  craft  and  chance  before  he  was  driven  forth  from  the 
Brooklyn  navy  yard  by  the  "  angel  of  the  flaming  sword." 
"This  boy,  untried  as  he  is,  is  smart — dangerous — a  cold- 
hearted  liar,  and  has  already  some  direct  path  laid  out  to  cut 
his  way  to  success.  It  lies  cut  through  the  quivering  hearts 
of  some  innocent  sufferers.  There  is  only  one  thing  which 
will  keep  this  fellow  from  becoming  a  notable  human 
shark;  it  is  his  lack  of  nerve  and  the  easy  runway  of  that 
pleasure-loving  chin.  He  is  the  sort  of  a  chap  to  be  « laid 
by  the  heels'  at  last.  But,  God  knows  where  he  will 
drive  on  to.     In  fair  weather,  any  fool  can  sail  a  yacht!" 

As  the  two  men  clambered  into  the  stage,  in  the  hush  of 
the  next  evening,  Hooper  narrowly  observed  his  host  and 
self-appointed  traveling  companion.  Wyman's  slender 
luggage  indicated  an  early  return.  His  face  was  un- 
troubled, his  air  quietly  expectant,  Hooper  cast  a  scorn- 
ful glance  at  the  bald,  sterile,  social  wilderness  of  the  shabby 
town,  and  he  then   trundled  away  over  the  hidden  veins 


JIM    THE    PENMAN.  91 

below  with  no  thought  of  the  gnome-guarded  golden 
veins  founded  in  silvery  buttresses.  But  as  the  stage 
swept  around  the  last  point,  a  ray  of  the  setting  sun  lit  up 
the  gloomy  gorge  of  the  Grizzly  Canon.  The  eager  air 
of  Wyman's  farewell  glance  stimulated  Hooper's  curi- 
osity. 

"  Has  this  fellow  a  buried  treasure  down  there?  He 
seems  so  cool  so  confident,  so  indifferent  to  the  future, 
and  yet,  he  has  neither  associates  nor  backers.  What 
underlies  his  strange  serenity?"  These  unanswered 
questions  yielded  to  memories  which  thrilled  Hooper's 
heart  to  the  throbbing  core. 

As  the  wheels  revolved,  Jim  the  Penman  softly  closed  his 
eyes.  He  could  see  again  Vinnie  Hinton,  as  on  that  day, 
two  years  before,  when  she  first  entered  the  office  of  the 
Naval  Paymaster  at  the  Brooklyn  Yards.  The  very  first 
notes  of  her  velvety  voice  cost  him  his  peace  of  mind, 
and  Uncle  Sam,  a  new  check  book,  for  a  quart  of  copying 
fluid  baptized  that  open  document,  which  figured  so  promi- 
nently later  in  Vinnie  Hinton's  rapidly  enlarged  social 
horizon.  The  disgraced  fugitive  could  see  once  more  the 
woman's  flashing,  wonderful  brown  eyes,  with  their  two 
glistening  spots,  a  resistless  invitation,  at  once,  a  pleading 
and  a  snare.  His  heart  leaped  up  madly,  as  he  pressed  his 
arm  upon  a  crackling  letter  in  his  bosom.  For,  their  life 
paths  were  again  to  run  into  one  at  the  Golden  Gate. 

What  mattered  it  if  Paymaster  Arthur  Hallowell  was 
now  a  not  ornamental  inmate  of  the  Dry  Tortugas  prison, 
a  man  from  whose  shoulders  the  blue  and  gold  had  been 
stripped?  The  double  event  which  made  a  great  dis- 
bursing agent  her  slave,  and  his  confidential  man  her 
humble  man  Friday,  was  a  tribute  to  those  quietly  exerted 
fascinations  which  a  lavish  nature  had  given  to  the  reckless, 
shy-eyed  beauty,  as  a  fatal  dower.     It  had  ruined  several 


92  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE   MARIQUITA. 

others,  before  her  velvet  cheek  glowed  one  shade  deeper 
under  the  ardent  glances  of  poor  Arthur  Hallowell,  whose 
eyes  now  swept,  hopelessly,  the  sapphire  zone  of  the 
Caribbean. 

Whether  from  a  convict's  standpoint,  Vinnie  Hinton 
was  still  the  Queen  of  Arts  and  Hearts,  Hooper  knew 
not,  but  it  was  strangely  true  that  very  night  the  man  in 
stripes,  a  dishonored  officer,  dreamed  again  of  those 
splendid  eyes,  trembling  with  the  unshed  tears.  The 
word  "Embezzlement,"  coldly  entered  against  the  name 
of  Arthur  Hallowell,  might  have  been  properly  followed 
by  the  uglier  remark  "Forgery,"  coupled  with  the 
patronymic  of  James  Walter  Hooper,  the  Paymaster's 
Chief  Clerk. 

"What  a  genius  Vinnie  is!"  fondly  mused  Hooper 
that  night  at  Reno.  '  <  No  one  but  she  would  have  had 
sense  enough  to  burn  up  the  extra  warrant  book  and  the 
check  book.  When  poor  Hallowell  helped  himself  a  little 
to  the  government  funds,  he  never  knew  that  I  could 
follow  him  up  with  a  better  signed  check  than  his  own. 
I  don't  fancy  that  his  bondsmen  will  ever  find  out  how 
much  we  took,  jointly  and  severally.  I  only  wonder  if 
Vinnie  has  kept  an  egg  or  two  of  the  golden  nest.  The 
government  is  about  two  years  behind  the  rebellion.  The 
Auditor's  and  Treasury  accounts  are  about  two  years  be- 
hind the  government.  Long  before  my  criminality  can 
be  traced,  I  will  be  either  well  placed  in  this  world,, 
high  above  any  suspicion,  or  else  eligibly  located  in 
another." 

So  it  was,  with  a  light  heart,  Mr.  James  Walter  Hooper 
blew  out  his  brief  candle  and  dreamed  of  "working" 
San  Francisco  with  the  resistless  and  fascinating  Vinnie 
"on  joint  account."  "She  must  have  some  distinct 
ideas,"  was  his  last  thought,  "   or  else  she  would  have  con- 


JIM    THE    PENMAN.  93 

veniently  forgotten  poor  Jim  the  Penman."  Even  in  his 
freely  indulged  soliloquies,  he  avoided  that  brutally  direct 
term  "Jim  the  Forger."  Luck  had  been  with  him  so 
far,  for  his  hasty  flight  from  New  York  to  save  an  ap- 
pearance, as  a  witness  of  damning  injury  to  the  un- 
fortunate Hallo  well,  was  effected  through  a  warm-hearted 
young  brother  officer.  He  had  recognized  the  dainty 
touch  of  lovely  Vinnie  Hinton's  jeweled  hand  in  the 
instantaneous  flitting,  and  the  brief  scrawl:  "Burned  all 
Arthur's  books  and  things  here  at  the  New  York  Hotel; 
work  your  way  out  to  San  Francisco;  I'll  join  you  there. 
Send  only  address  here  to  me;  I'll  bring  you  out  all  right 
yet!"  The  one  key  word  she  signed  threw  open  the  door 
of  Memory  to  a  spell  which  still  held  him  trembling  in 
silence  at  her  feet — the  Conqueror. 

Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  had  been  strangely  abstracted 
during  the  ride,  and  the  furtive  watching  of  the  ex-pay- 
master's clerk  evolved  no  clue  to  his  covert  necessities. 
At  Willows  Cross  Roads,  the  penman  noted  a  sudden  flush 
of  interest,  as  Mr.  Wyman  joined  eagerly  in  a  general 
conversation  based  upon  the  sudden  elevation  of  Elder  Asa 
Holman  to  be  a  Bishop  of  the  Mormon  Church. 

"Has  he  left  here?  "  demanded  Wyman  carelessly  of  the 
hotelkeeper. 

' '  Yes.  Sold  out  all  his  ranch  and  stock  to  the  stage 
company.  Going  to  be  sent  either  to  Europe  to  drum  up 
recruits  for  Brother  Brigham,  or  else  to  found  a  new  Mor- 
mon colony  in  Mexico.  He's  gone  away  already,  and  one  or 
two  of  the  old  women  alone,  are  left  here  packing  up  to 
follow  him  on  to  Salt  Lake  City.  That  old  slyboots  left 
here  with  a  good  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  gold." 

As  the  heavy  stage  lumbered  along  to  its  final  destina- 
tion at  Truckee,  Hooper  began  to  feel  a  very  warm  curios- 
ity in  Wyman's  future  movements.     There  was  a  restless 


94  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

glitter  in  his  eyes,  which    denoted    the   working   of   his 
crafty  brain. 

"lamina  hurry  to  reach  San  Francisco,"  said  Hooper, 
as  the  two  men  wandered  away  from  the  little  hotel  porch, 
on  the  star-lit  night  following  their  debut  at  Truckee. 
Down  in  the  gorge  the  river  was  dashing  among  its 
dark  boulders,  and  the  huge  swaying  pines  sang  the  sad 
wailing  song  of  the  Sierras  over  them. 

"  I  wish  you  would  give  me  to-morrow  here,"  finally 
remarked  Wyman,  as  they  raised  their  eyes  out  of  the 
dark  olive  depths.      "  I  will  make  it  an  object  to  you." 

"Have  you  much  business  here?  Are  we  over  the 
State  line?"  casually  remarked  the  penman. 

"I  think  so!  I  must  find  out  a  notary.  There  must  be 
one  here.  I've  not  been  in  this  town  before;  but  only 
passed  through."  Wyman  had  incautiously  trapped  him- 
self. 

The  firm  lips  of  Jimmy  Hooper  never  quivered. 
"Wants  to  do  a  bit  of  private  business.  If  I  mistake  not, 
it's  a  good  investment  for  the  future." 

The  two  young  men  indulged  in  an  earnest  game  of 
billiards  till  late,  but  the  word  "  business  "  never  crossed 
Wyman's  lips  till  the  golden  sun  had  cleared  the  swaying 
forest  giants  the  next  day.  It  cost  the  borderer  a  final 
wrench  at  heart  to  approach  the  subject.  "He  will  never 
come  back  to  Virginia.  And  he  will  forget  the  names 
and  all.     I'll  take  the  papers  away  at  once." 

Decided  to  take  the  final  risk,  the  egoist  timidly  asked 
his  own  heart,  "Will  five  hundred  dollars  be  enough?" 
He  was  man  enough  to  own  that,  possessed  of  Mr. 
Hooper's  singular  talent,  he  himself  would  have  demanded 
more.  But  he  ignored  Mr.  Hooper's  total  inability  to 
discern  just  how  much  of  the  late  Steve  Berard's  gold 
coin  lay  snugly  buried  behind  a  set  of  framing  timbers  of 


JIM    THE    PENMAN.  95 

the  tunnel,  where  the  stolid  Swede  was  now  watching 
that  golden  hearted  virgin,  the  Mariquita. 

Frederick  Wyman  was  astir  betimes  the  next  morning. 
Before  his  companion  had  ceased  to  dream  of  the  kalei- 
doscopic changes  of  fortune  of  Vinnie  Hinton,  the  borderer 
had  thoroughly  explored  the  burg  of  Truckee. 

"  Yaas!  it's  a  queer  place!"  said  an  early  barkeeper,  as 
the  two  men  listened  to  the  plumed  quail  piping  in  the 
theoretical  streets  of  Truckee.  "  Just  stumps  enough  cut 
out  here,  for  the  stage  to  get  in  and  out.  The  river  gives 
us  water  to  blend,  our  whisky,  and  the  old  hole  burns  up 
regularly  every  year  when  leaves  are  dry.  You  see  we're 
in  a  regular  basin  here — a  cup.  Dern  it!  a  fellow  killed  a 
a  big  grizzly  bear  in  the  town  limits  the  other  day,  and 
them  yellow  panthers  lug  off  every  colt  and  calf  around 
here.  Notary  public?  Yes  sir!  Over  there!  Shake  his  door 
well.  He  was  drunk  last  night.  You'll  find  him  a  handy 
man.  He's  a  tailor,  barber,  shoemaker,  and  Justice  of 
the  Peace,  as  well  as  the  Postmaster  and  Insurance  agent. 
He  does  a  bit  of  real  estate,  too,  but  that's  not  his  strong 
hold." 

In  a  half  hour,  Mr.  Wyman  returned  with  the  facto- 
tum, who,  after  three  stiff  drinks,  explained  a  few  details 
extracted  from  a  very  greasy  copy  of  the  Practice  Act. 

"Wait  for  me  at  your  office,  Squire,"  said  Wyman,  as 
he  privately  pledged  the  barkeeper  to  keep  the  "Squire" 
sober  until  after  ten  o'clock.  "  Then,  you  can  turn  the 
'tremens'  loose  on  him,  for  all  I  care,"  said  Wyman,  as 
they  took  a  drink  * l  on  private  account. " 

The  homely  hotel  breakfast  dispatched,  Mr.  Frederick 
Wyman  affected  such  a  fine  air  of  easy  unconcern,  that, 
at  last,  Hooper  came  flatly  to  the  point. 

"What  ami  to  do  for  you,  Wyman?"  he  briskly  said. 
"Now,  the  day  is  crawling  on." 


96  MISS    DEVEBEUX    OF    THE    MAEIQUITA. 

Shut  up  in  a  stifling  little  upper  room,  Wyman  slowly 
produced  several  old  papers,  and  a  small  assortment  of  an- 
tique stationery  which  he  had  picked  up,  bit  by  bit,  at  Vir- 
ginia City.  His  hand  still  trembled  with  the  bill  of  sale 
of  one  quarter  of  the  "Mariquita,"  clutched  in  his  eager 
grasp,  when  his  lame  and  halting  story  was  over. 

The  glittering  blue  eyes  of  James  Walter  Hooper  were 
lazily  fixed  on  a  great  gray  squirrel  capering  gaily  on  a  dry 
limb  of  a  huge  pine  near.  Gurgling  water,  the  fresh 
morning  breeze,  a  patch  of  bluest  sky,  arched  with  the 
forest  monarchs,  all  the  fine  veiled  harmony  of  nature, 
wooed  the  ex-clerk  to  a  lonely  stroll. 

"Don't  differentiate,  my  boy,  out  with  it!  Tell  me 
what  I  can  do  for  you!  These  papers  are  not  worth  a 
damn  to  you,  unless  verified.      Who  is  going  to  do  that?" 

"You  see,"  faltered  Wyman,  now  in  a  close  corner, 
' '  the  fact  is,  Devereux  was  a  rolling  stone.  He  will  never 
turn  up  again.  No  one  knows  him,  and  I  only  want  to 
close  my  title.  I  hate  to  put  in  a  whole  season's  work  on 
the  mine,  and  then  be  worried  later. " 

"And,  you  want  me  to  leap  into  the  chasm  for  you, 
here?"     Mr.  Hooper  was  now  very  wide  awake. 

"  I  want  the  papers  fixed  up  just  as  if  Devereux  him- 
self were  here,"  sullenly  said  the  borderer. 

"What  sort  of  a  chap  is  the  Notary?"  calmly  said 
Hooper. 

"  He's  over  there  now,  half  drunk,  waiting  for  me,"  re- 
plied Wyman. 

"How  much  loose  money  have  you  with  you?"  placidly 
continued  Hooper. 

"I  have  five  hundred  dollars  in  good  twenties,  if  no  one 
can  tell  the  difference  of  these  documents."  Wyman 
sighed,  and  his  face  plead  poverty. 

"Go  over  there  and  keep  that  chap  on  a  moving  drunk, 


JIM    THE    PENMAN.  97 

but,  just  so  sober  that  he  can  stick  on  his  seal.  You  are 
sure  we  are  now  in  California?  "  the   Penman  queried. 

''There's  an  impression  of  his  notarial  seal!"  cried 
Fred. 

"All  right!  I'll  be  there  in  a  jiffy.  Stay!  Give  me 
all  the  dates  you  want,  and  the  consideration." 

Wyman,  by  hazard,  put  clown  ten  dollars  to  be  named  in 
the  deed,  and  the  date  of  the  uprising  at  Virginia,  for  the 
forged  transfer  of  the  three  quarters  of  the  Mariquita,  still 
standing  on  the  records  as  the  property  of  one  Robert  Dever- 
eux.  "They  will  remember  that  all  was  upside  down 
then,  at  Virginia  City,  if  any  one  ever  looks  it  up,  and  it 
will  explain  his  being  over  here,  too.  It  all  goes  well  with 
the  idea  of  Devereux's  final  disappearance  for  California." 
Mr.  Wyman  was  now  very  anxious  to  see  the  work  of 
Jim  the  Penman,  in  its  finished  state. 

"You  take  the  gold  over  there  along  with  you,  and 
you'll  get  the  documents  when  you  pay  the  Notary  his 
fees,"  coldly  remarked  Hooper.  "Stay!  The  damned  fool 
may  ask  me  a  question  or  so.  Have  you  anything  with 
you  of  the  absent  man's?     Something  to  identify  him?" 

Wyman  thrust  a  couple  of  envelopes  hastily  into  his 
hand.  "There's  a  couple  of  letters  addressed  to  him. 
You  can  show  those,  if  he  asks  you  to  prove  your  own 
identity." 

And,  while  Wyman  returned  to  stand  guard  over  the 
Notary,  Hooper,  after  a  few  moments  practice  and  char- 
acterization study,  deftly  ran  off  the  required  full  transfer. 
He  left  the  date  blank. 

"That's  a  very  neat  job,"  said  the  Penman,  as  from  his 
window  he  saw  Wyman  now  ornamenting  the  narrow 
portico  of  the  saloon  where  the  Squire  was  holding  forth 
on  the  great  future  of  Truckee  City.  Some  busy  devil's 
suggestion  caused  the  scribe  to  run  off   a  penciled  copy  of 


98  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUTTA. 

the  two  letters,  even  to  the  marks  on  the  envelopes.  « '  My 
friend  Wyman,"  he  smiled,  as  he  indulged  in  his  second 
morning  appetizer.  "  There  is  more  than  five  hundred 
dollars  in  this  affair.  Seed  sowed  by  the  wayside,  and  I 
can  afford  to  wait.  However,  I've  taken  all  there  is  in 
sight." 

Ten  minutes  later,  with  semi-drunken  gravity,  the 
Notary  objected  to  the  blank  date,  and  his  own  ignorance  of 
the  personality  of  the  maker  of  the  transfer,  "Oh!  Put 
in  the  date  of  our  bargain! "  said  Wyman  easily,  and  the 
false  Devereux  inscribed  the  date  of  the  occultation  of  the 
"101." 

"There,  Mr.  Notary,  are  my  letters.  I  suppose  that 
will  satisfy  you,"  remarked  Hooper  as  he  laid  the  en- 
velopes, with  the  furtively  copied  letters,  under  the 
Squire's  red  nose. 

"Certainly!  Certainly!  That's  all  right.  Must  how- 
ever obey  the  Code,"  commented  the  official,  as  he  finally 
affixed  the  notarial  seal  to  the  superbly  executed  forgery. 
The  ink,  the  faded  blue  paper  and  every  ear  mark  of  the 
original  document  was  there. 

"Stay,  Mr.  Notary,"  briskly  said  Wyman,  as  he  re- 
ceived his  change  for  a  twenty- dollar  piece.  "I  wish 
also  a  certified  copy.  Take  the  fees  out  for  that."  And, 
Mr.  Wyman  did  not  grudge  the  twelve  dollars  which  he 
parted  with. 

"You  see,  Devereux,"  laughed  Wyman,  as  Hooper 
quietly  gathered  in  his  five  hundred  dollars  in  shining 
gold,  "I  will  keep  the  original  and  send  the  certified  copy 
up  to  Virginia  City  for  record.  It  will  only  take  you  a 
few  moments  to  run  it  off." 

"  This  fellow  Wyman  is  a  bit  smarter  than  I  thought 
him,"  mused  Hooper,  as  he  good  humoredly  threw  in 
another  forgery   of   the  document.       "  I  suppose   he  has 


JIM    THE    PENMAN.  99 

some  wildcat  claim  up  there,  which  he  would  gladly  use 
as  a  shadowy  background  to  his  cheap  pretensions.  This 
young  tiger  cub  may  grow  to  be  a  bit  dangerous,  when 
his  teeth  are  longer,  and  so  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  him.  It's 
very  useful  money  to  me  now,  this  little  windfall.  I  can 
prospect  around  and  study  Vinnie's  game  a  little,  before 
she  has  me  at  Hoodman's  Blind,  again.  I  wonder  what  it 
is  now,  Army  or  Navy?" 

While  Wyman,  with  assumed  carelessness,  sauntered 
over  to  have  the  copy  certified,  Hooper  thought  of  all  the 
bright-eyed  harpies  clustering  around  the  disbursing  offi- 
cers of  Uncle  Sam.  ''Sixty-one,  sixty  two,  sixty-three," 
had  developed  a  brood  of  soft  plumaged  ■  falcons  who 
hovered  very  near  the  eagle  so  neatly  graven  on  the  official 
buttons;  and,  they  all  loved  the  crisp  green  treasury  notes. 
"Ah!  Vinnie!  Vinnie!  I  suppose  you  have  marked  your 
game  down  akeady  now;  some  successor  to  poor  Hallowell. " 
He  never  imagined  that  Vinnie  Hinton,  with  a  prophetic 
eye,  saw  the  evolution  of  the  "stock  millionaire,"  the 
Pacific  coaster,  the  bonanza  baron,  the  freshest,  coarsest, 
' <  greenest  "  of  fortune's  uplifted  fools. 

"If  this  run  of  luck  keeps  up  out  there,  Aladdin's  lamp 
was  a  baby's  toy  to  what  the  flame  of  fortune  may  show 
these  i  golden  calves.'  "  The  unwearied  attention  of  sev- 
eral United  States  Marshals  and  secret  service  detectives 
caused  Vinnie  Hinton  to  find  the  New  York  Hotel  a  bit 
stuffy.  "Westward  the  star,"  she  gaily  hummed  as  she 
flirted  with  the  purser  on  the  Atlantic,  only  to  captivate 
his  successor  on  the  Pacific  side.  "  I  am  all  right  now," 
laughed  Vinnie,  over  a  bottle  of  champagne  under  the 
sparkling  skies  of  the  Carribean.  "  For  once,  I  am  fol- 
lowing the  advice  of  a  Bishop — the  good  Berkeley. 
But,  I  must  have  my  Jimmie,  he  can  turn  the  trick  on 
these  lumbering  sons  of  a  lucky  star.  I  can't  do  it 
alone.   He  shall  be  my  business  man." 


100  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"  Do  you  go  right  back  to  Virginia  City?  "  questioned 
Hooper,  as  he  found  Wyman,  amusing  himself  with  com- 
pleting the  beastly  drunkenness  of  the  frontier  official, 
now  a  silent  reddened  Silenus. 

"Yes!  My  stage  comes  alone  at  three  o'clock,"  an- 
swered the  now  happy  borderer. 

'  'Wyman  has  some  object  in  blotting  out  this  Notary 
fellow's  memory  of  faces  and  names  to-day,"  reflected 
Hooper.  He  had  seen  a  great  deal  of  what  eastern  con- 
tractors called  "funny  business,"  around  the  "greenback" 
spouts  of  his  Uncle  Sam. 

"Are  your  records  all  straight?  "  hazarded  Hooper. 

"  Oh!  yes!"  gaily  replied  Fred.  "I  saw  his  entries  all 
O.  K.  So,  I  am  now  ready  to  leave  this  initial  point  of  a 
future  empire.  By  the  way,  give  me  your  San  Francisco 
address." 

Mr.  James  Walter  Hooper  glibly  lied,  for  he  gave  a 
place  which  Avas  conspicuously  not  the  meeting  haunt 
arranged  by  the  quick  witted  Vinnie.  "  Some  of  the 
queens  of  shadow  land  must  have  posted  her  in  New 
York  !"  thought  Hooper,  as  he  had  read  the  Perdita's 
minute  directions  for  his  behavior  on  arrival. 

"  I  can  always  write  to  you,  any  change,"  quietly  said 
Hooper,  with  a  sly  gleam  of  his  eye.  "  Neither  of  us,  I 
guess,  will  ever  refer  to  this  little  Truckee  episode.  It's 
a  cold  State's  prison  matter  for  both  of  us." 

"  Oh!  It's  nobody's  business,"  hastily  rejoined  Wyman. 
"  I  have  always  been  too  loose  about  my  documents  and 
things.     This  straightens  me  out." 

"lam  too  careless  myself,"  rejoined  Hooper,  with  a 
twinge  of  remorse  for  the  numbers  of  interpolated 
checks  which  poor  Paymaster  Hallo  well  had  unwittingly 
signed.  "  I  only  wish  I  had  been  only  more  active  in  my 
well  doing,"  sighed   Hooper,    "  I  would  not  have  been  so 


JIM   THE   PENMAN.  101 

dependent  on  Vinnie's  whims  now.  However,  I  might  as 
well  surrender  at  discretion. "  It  was  true  that  to  be  near 
her,  to  look  into  the  soft  brown  eyes,  even  though  their 
light  was  a  lying  beacon  signal  of  passion,  was  now 
Hooper's  very  breath  of  life. 

The  dust-covered  stage  which  bore  Frederick  Wyman, 
Esq.,  away  from  Truckee  toward  Reno,  left  him  at  the 
first  watering  station.  "  Never  mind  my  fare,"  he  hastily 
said  to  the  driver."  "  I  left  some  papers  behind  me  by 
accident.  I'll  come  up  to-morrow."  Jim  the  Penman  was 
well  over  the  Geiger  grade,  and  the  Spirit  of  the  Summit 
whispered  of  Vinnie's  open  arms  to  him,  before  Wyman 
returned  to  Truckee. 

His  first  morning  duty  was  to  sober  up  the  factotum, 
whom  he  had  made  crazy  drunk  as  the  only  Notary  and 
Justice.  But,  he  needed  him  now  sober.  In  his  capacity 
of  Wells,  Fargo  &  Co.'s  assistant  express  agent,  the  re- 
calcitrant receipted  for  a  sealed  package  of  documents, 
addressed  to  the  County  Recorder  of  Storey  County, 
Virginia  City,  Nevada.  The  gold  for  the  official  fees  and 
a  liberal  douceur,  accompanied  this  forwarding  of  the  ex- 
quisitely natural  work  of  Jim  the  Penman. 

"  I  will  get  the  documents  here  in  a  week  or  so  my- 
self," remarked  the  man,  now  happily  disembarrassed  of 
friend  Hooper.  "I  have  to  visit  Sacramento  and  I  will 
return  in  a  week."  A  sigh  of  relief  escaped  the  new 
owner  of  the  ' '  Mariquita. " 

On  the  next  evening,  Wyman,  light-nearted,  followed 
Hooper  over  the  crested  Sierras  to  the  golden  valley  of 
the  Sacramento.  As  he  paced  the  hotel  porch  at  Auburn, 
two  days  later,  Mr.  Wyman  was  in  the  gayest  of  moods 
while  waiting  for  the  last  fragment  of  his  stage  journey. 
1 '  The  train  from  Folsom  to  Sacramento,  then  the  boat, 
and   in   forty-eight  hours   I  will  know  what  Mrs.  Robert 


102  MISS    ,DEVE3EUX    OF    THE    MARIQU1TA. 

Devereux   is   like.     By   Jove!    I  must    not    stumble   on 
Hooper.     I  will  have  to  play  the  night  owl." 

As  the  great  steamer  < '  Chrysopolis  "  throbbed  along 
down  the  matchless  San  Francisco  Bay,  Wyman's  last 
plans  were  achieved  in  his  deck  dreams.  "  I  will  change 
the  name  of  the  mine,  then  the  people  will  soon  forget 
Devereux.  I  will  let  it  lie  idle  this  winter,  and  I  will 
order  my  light  machinery  on  this  visit.  By  next  spring,  I 
will  have  grown  into  my  recognized  ownership,  and  all  talk 
will  have  died  away.  Devereux  and  Berard  will  be  merely 
faded  shadows,  and  my  uncontested  title  and  possession 
will  be  known  of  all  men.  Then,  by  the  Gods,  next  year, 
a  single  month's  work  will  take  out  enough  to  give  me  the 
wherewithal  to  knock  at  the  doors  now  closed  to  poor 
Fred  Wyman. " 

As  the  great  river  steamer  swept  up  to  her  landing,  San 
Francisco's  ten  thousand  twinkling  lights  seemed  to  shine 
m  his  happy  heart,  lighting  the  way  to  myriad  veiled 
pleasures.  "  The  Devil's  own  luck  has  stood  in  with  me  so 
far,"  he  murmured,  as  he  sped  away  from  the  city 
wharves.  In  the  carriage,  he  deciphered  from  the  stolen 
letters  the  humble  address  on  Kearney  Street  where  the 
lonely  wife  of  his  murdered  partner  had  lived,  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  theater,  in  which  she  acted  as  costumer. 
"By  Heavens!  I  have  it,"  he  cried,  and  then,  dis- 
missing his  driver  at  the  nearest  corner,  he  lounged  into 
the  huge  music  hall  theater,  only  a  vast  man  trap  with  its 
painted  sirens  and  adjacent  bar-rooms. 

A  few  hospitable  civilities  to  a  lounging  usher  made  him, 
at  once,  free  of  the  lower  corridors.  Within,  shouts  and 
yells  attested  the  vigor  of  the  evening's  enjoyment.  "  Oh! 
Yes.  I  know  the  woman  you  mean,"  babbled  the  usher. 
"  A  decent  woman,  too.  You  see  she  sickened  awhile 
ago  and  had  to  give  up  work  and  go  to  the  hospital.     Old 


JIM    THE    PENMAN.  103 

man  McCabe,  the  stage  manager,  knows  aL  about  them. 
He  took  the  little  girl  in.  He's  a  good  old  chap,  is  Mac. 
And  his  wife  is  kind  hearted." 

Wyman  departed  happy  with  a  last  crumb  of  welcome 
news.  "You'll  find  McCabe,  alone  here,  at  ten  o'clock 
always  in  the  mornings."  'Luck  still  with  me,"  cried 
Wyman  in  his  confident  joy.  "I  am  all  safe  now.  I 
hope  she  is  by  this  time  dead." 

With  unabashed  front,  the  surviving  partner  visited  the 
dingy  rooms  where  Devereux's  wife  had  dragged  out  the 
agony  of  two  long  weary  winters,  and  a  lonely  summer. 
The  "people  opposite,"  those  opportune  Mercuries  who 
always  seem  to  be  human  encyclopedias,  wondered  at  the 
appearance  of  the  only  visitor  who  had  ever  sought  the 
departed  lodger,  save  weazened-faced  old  Jimmy  McCabe, 
the  "nielodeon"  stage  manager.  Mr.  Wyman's  ready 
explanations  of  his  desire  to  hire  a  resplendent  costume 
for  a  masked  ball,  was  met  with  a  flood  of  detail.  "Ah! 
The  poor  woman,"  said  the  middle-aged  gossip,  driving 
back  a  varied  brood  of  youngsters  who  eagerly  divided  a 
handful  of  small  coins,  "You  see,  she  moped  herself 
sick,  and  when  they  took  her  to  the  Sisters'  Hospital,  old 
Mr.  McCabe  and  his  wife  took  the  little  girl  away.  No! 
There  ain't  nothin'  here  belongin'  to  them.  The  costumes 
and  things  wuz  all  the  theater's  own,  an'  they  didn't  have 
much.  McCabe  can  tell  ye  all.  She  had  some 
trouble  with  her  husband,  or  lost  him.  That's  all.  No! 
I  don't  know  what  particular  Catholic  hospital  she  was 
taken  to.  She  was  all  gone  in.  Consumption?  Yes. 
That's  the  end  of  them  worrying  women.  An'  the  man 
never  turned  up.  The  letter  carriers  don't  leave  no  more 
letters.  If  ye  were  to  see  Mr.  McCabe  at  the  theater,  ye 
can  get  what  costumes  ye  want  there.  He  told  me  he 
hoped  to  get  the  little  girl  into  the  orphan  asylum.  She's 
bright  like,  poor  dear  thing." 


104  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

Before  Wyman  descended  the  stair,  the  sound  of  the 
washboard  resounded  and  he  had  decided  at  once  not  to 
interview  the  kindly  disposed  McCabe.  "  I  am  invincible 
now — impregnable.  The  Mariquita  is  mine  forever,"  he 
mused,  as  he  wended  his  way  down  to  order  his  ma- 
chinery. "I'll  get  back  to  the  Comstock  and  watch  my 
hidden  treasure." 

At  that  very  moment  Vinnie  Hinton,  with  glowing  eyes, 
was  pledging  Mr.  James  Walter  Hooper  in  a  sparkling  glass 
of  Cliquot.  "Jimmy,"  she  laughed,  "I  am  going  to  put 
you  into  high  life.  I've  got  a  rich  banking  magnate  here 
on  the  string. " 


IN    PAY    ORE.  105 


CHAPTER  V. 
In  Pay  Ore. 

It  was  no  cold,  ascetic  turn  of  mind  which  caused  Wy- 
man  to  deny  himself  the  varied  pleasures  of  the  Golden 
City.  Satisfied  that  the  wife  and  child  of  his  dead  partner 
had  been  hurled  far  away  from  his  orbit,  by  the  sudden 
shock  of  a  new  misery,  he  now  yearned  for  the  higher  alti- 
tudes of  the  Comstock.  Afraid  to  show  his  face,  for  fear  of 
awkward  explanations  with  Hooper,  he  made  only  a  brief 
visit  to  the  Miners'  Foundry,  to  buy  his  machinery,  before 
purchasing  his  four  o'clock  steamer  ticket.  He  did,  how- 
ever, indulge  in  a  three  hours'  quiet  ride  around  the  rapidly 
extending  limits  of  San  Francisco..  This,  with  a  single 
furtive  visit  to  the  Stock  Board,  and  a  glimpse  of  the  new 
business  palaces,  verified  all  his  winter  dreams  on  Mount 
Davidson. 

"Yes!  Prosperity,  wealth,  luxury,  even  splendor,  have 
come  to  pitch  their  gilded  tents  here,"  he  muttered,  as  he 
swore  in  his  heart :  "I  will  force  myself  up  here.  I  will 
yet  rule  among  even  these  growing  madmen."  .Poring  over 
the  journals,  he  observed  the  fever  pulse  of  the  "stock" 
mania,  throbbing  in  their  every  line.  The  faces  of  the 
hurrying  men,  the  sideling  glances  of  the  eager,  hawkeyed 
women,  all  spoke  to  him  of  the  iridescent  bubbles  now 
dazzling  every  wandering  eye.  Sudden  wealth,  quick 
prominence,  unrestrained  enjoyment!     Vogue  la  galere! 

"I  will  be  my  own  Committee  of  Ways  and  Means,"  he 
reflected,  as  he  concluded  his  orders  for  four  sets  of  horse 
power  gearing,  a  20-foot  circular  arrastra  quartz  mill,  and 


106  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

all  the  simple  outfit,  needed  to  reduce  some  of  his  choicest 
selected  ores.  "  It  makes  a  hole  iu  my  safety  fund  to 
the  extent  of  a  couple  of  thousand  dollars,"  thought  Wy- 
man,  "but,  in  the  winter  and  spring,  my  Swede,  with  a 
single  carpenter,  can  get  these  machines  into  position  at 
the  mouth  of  the  tunnel.  The  record's  all  right;  my  own 
possession  continued  and  acknowledged,  I  can  then  break 
down  and  sack  up  ore  enough  myself,  for  the  first  few  runs. 
I  will  soon  have  the  means  to  draw  in  a  goodly  amount  of 
floating  mining  stock  in  good  claims,  as  well  as  to  make 
my  mine  build  its  own  great  permanent  mill.  A  cheap 
shed  will  cover  all  my  workings,  and,  I  will  be  a  fairly 
rich  man  before  even  I  attract  local  attention.  But  first, 
the  mine's  name  must  be  legally  changed,  and  the  memory 
of  Devereux  and  Berardfade  away." 

As  the  afternoon  steamer  whirled  passed  grim,  rocky 
Alcatraz  fort,  quivering  under  the  impulses  of  its  sixty 
foot  wheels,  the  budding  capitalist  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
storm  flag  flying  out  over  the  huge  citadel.  "  My  Uncle 
Sam,"  he  sneered,  "I  will  thank  you  for  a  miner's  patent 
to  the  'Mariquita,'  that's  all.  And,  I  would  not  trouble 
you  for  that— even  that — if  General  Sidney  Johnson  had 
played  our  trump  card  for  the  rebellion  here,  out  West. 
But,  all's  well  that  ends  well,"  he  mused,  as  he  gazed  back 
at  that  scene  of  his  future  triumphs. 

San  Francisco  lay  embattled  on  its  sandy  hills,  glowing 
in  golden  sun  gleams  darted  down  from  golden  clouds,  and 
there  behind  him,  the  setting  sun  left  a  shining  wake  of 
gold  upon  the  blue,  heaving  waters.  Even  the  long  reaches 
of  the  sandy  shore,  stretching  from  Fort  Point  townwards, 
glistened  with  a  gleaming  light,  suggestive  of  the  golden 
grains,  man's  lure,  womanhood's  curse,  and  the  soul's 
ready  damnation. 

"I  will  come  back  here  in  triumph,  and  these  doors  shall 


IN    PAY    ORE.  107 

all  be  flung  wide  open  to  welcome  me,"  he  pledged  himself, 
as  his  eye  rested  on  the  pagodas  where  Pride  already- 
perched  a  bit  above  the  humble  every-day  usefulness  below. 
He  had  wolfishly  gazed  at  the  heaped  up  treasures  of 
windows  and  marts,  the  scattered  votive  offerings  of  costly 
folly.  The  richly  dressed  women,  racing  on  with  kindling 
eyes  in  the  glittering  streets,  had  brushed  the  unknown 
dreamer  aside.  But,  the  rustle  of  silk,  the  sheen  of  velvet, 
the  flutter  of  lace,  still  told  him  of  the  Paradise  to 
come — that  Eden  whose  white-breasted  Eves  radiant  in 
diamonds,  with  glowing  eyes,  drank,  in  beaming  invi- 
tation, to  the  lucky  man  touched  by  Fortune's  magic 
fingers. 

One  face  haunted  him  still,  the  face  of  a  woman  who  had 
flashed  a  pair  of  wonderful  brown  eyes,  full  if  lingering 
softness,  at  the  graceful  mountaineer,  even  though  his  garb 
was  not  yet  that  of  a  Prince  Charming.  < '  IV.  like  to  find 
her  some  day  again,  when  I  am  rich,"  he  muttered.  "  I 
would  hang  a  rope  of  pearls  upon  that  neck;  but,  it  should 
bend.     What  a  pair  of  eyes!  " 

He  had  watched  the  anonyma,  as  she  swept  into 
"  Shreve's,"  with  the  stride  of  a  goddess.  Wayfarers  turned 
to  look  again  upon  that  poetry  of  grace  in  motion,  for, 
the  charm  of  face  must  ever  yield  to  that  nameless  grace  of 
the  goddess'  form — the  Idalian  model  swelling  in  delicious 
curves  'neath  the  draping  of  these  later  days. 

Wyman  never  knew  that  the  fair  one  who  charmed  him, 
had  laughingly  parted,  only  a  half  hour  before,  with  his  de- 
parted collaborator,  Jim  the  Penman.  Waving  a  check  be- 
fore Hooper's  eyes,  which  was  signed  with  three  cabalistic 
initials,  she  laughingly  said,  "You  must  not  embarrass 
me  in  public,  my  boy.  When  you  have  mastered  that  one 
handwriting,  I  will  show  you  then,  how  to  turn  paper  into 
gold.     I  think  that  I  shall  set  you  up   as  a   broker,  in  a 


108  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MABIQUITA. 

small    way,     my    own    particular    broker;  for    I    have    a 
banker  already." 

Wyman  was  returning  from  a  last  tour  of  the  locality 
whence  the  broken-hearted  wife  had  been  borne  to  the  hos- 
pital, when  this  vision  of  passing  beauty  so  dazzled  him. 
She  was,  in  fact,  a  star  newly  risen  in  the  local  firmament, 
and  sundry  social  astronomers  had  already  cast  the  in- 
quiring glances  of  their  opera-glasses  at  this  strange  di- 
vinity, murmuring  in  scientific  quandary — "Whose?  " 

Wyman  had  passed  on  to  the  great  Bella  Union  Theater, 
and,  his  heart  had  failed  him  as  the  barkeeper  pointed  out 
Mr.  Billy  McCabe,  the  veteran  ex-Dublin  manager,  now 
the  Asmodeus  of  the  "Bella  Union."  Pie  was  a  little 
bullet-headed  man  of  sixty-five,  with  a  keen  gray  eye,  a 
decisive  nose  a  la  Wellington,  and  a  bustling  manner. 
Wyman  had  fancied  that  he  might  locate  the  orphan 
school  where  Miss  Hope  Devereux  was  sheltered  under 
those  "  white  wings"  always  stretched  out  to  shield  the 
friendless  poor. 

"He  does  not  look  like  an  easy  customer  to  tackle. 
He  might  follow  me  and  easily  spot  me,"  thought  Mr. 
Frederick.  "  I  fancy  the  Church  will  graft  in  this  child  as 
a  sisterling  by  and  by.  Silence  is  golden.  I  will  let  well 
enough  alone.     I  could  not  buy  him  with  a  few  dollars." 

All  in  all,  Mr.  Wyman  of  the  Mariquita  was  pleased 
with  his  trip  to  the  Bay.  As  the  stage  toiled  up  over  the 
steep  hills  above  Auburn,  the  borderer's  heart  grew  light, 
when  the  forest  shades  welcomed  him.  The  chattering 
blue  jay's  discordant  scream,  the  plash  of  the  waters  fall- 
ing into  the  far  dim  gorges,  the  blue  skies  domed  above, 
where  the  poised  mountain  hawk  fluttered  as  if  mysteri- 
ously fixed  in  the  thin  ether,  all  this,  called  him  away 
from  the  Vanity  Fair  he  had  left.  But  Pleasure  and 
Desire,    bold-eyed   handmaidens,  whispered    still  of   the 


IX    PAY    ORE.  100 

speaking  brown  eyes  of  the  Beautiful  Unknown.  '  <  Time 
enough  for  that  when  I  have  my  first  hundred  thousand," 
resolutely  decided  Wyman.  "  I  will  be  a  finished  gentle- 
man, and  my  chariot  will  have  golden  wheels.  I  will 
succeed;  for,  only  the  poor  are  despised  in  this  western 
world." 

Several  neat  little  by-plans  wove  themselves  now  into  the 
plotted  career  of  the  next  year.  "lean  hide  my  secret 
operations  easily  by  putting  up  a  sign  '  Ores  sampled.' 
With  a  light  steam-engine,  I  can  cover  expenses  and  so 
veil  my  own  operations,  until  I  am  sur.e  of  both  my  own 
practical  skill  and  reputed  ownership. "  The  half  hour 
which  others  devoted  to  a  "lightning  meal"  at  Truckee, 
enabled  Wyman  to  reclaim  his  papers  from  the  Notary- 
Express  agent,  who  was  now  professionally  sober,  as  the 
village  barber,  and  shaving  several  daringly  trustful  souls, 
at  fifty  cents  a  head. 

"There  you  are,  sir!  All  right  to  a  trivet,"  cried  the 
man  of  lather,  with  a  sigh  that  he  could  not  just  then  re- 
new those  "pleasing  assurances."  He  was  delighted  to 
hear  the  grateful  Wyman  exclaim  that  he  would  * '  hang- 
up "  a  half  dozen  drinks  for  him  at  the  bar. 

As  Mr.  Wyman  of  the  Mariquita  rolled  out  of  Truckee, 
the  very  happiest  man  on  the  creaking  Concord  coach,  he 
rejoiced  in  the  properly  recorded  papers,  which  attested  the 
slickness  of  Jim  the  Penman's  imitative  work.  His  last 
glimpse  of  the  Notary  was  in  his  capacity  of  "  man  about 
town,"  making  for  those  drinks,  and  leaving  his  razeed  pa- 
trons astounded  more  at  his  ' '  f  ortiter  in  re ' '  than  his 
"  suaviter  in  modo." 

"There's  a  good  deal  of  electricity  in  this  mountain 
air,"  growled  a  patron  whose  epidermis  had  partially  fol- 
lowed the  lost  glory  of  his  chin. 

With   the   furtive  moral  triangulations  of  his  nature, 


110  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

Wynian  could  not  avoid  a  careful  cross-questioning  of 
the  barkeeper  at  Willows  Cross  Roads,  as  to  the  affray  in 
which  Berard  had  figured.  "Poor  Steve,"  said  the 
saloonkeeper,  as  he  bowed  in  answer  to  Wyman's  courteous 
frontier  question,  "Join  me?"  "It  was  very  neatly 
done,  you  see.  This  fellow  was  sort  of  rebellious  like,  and 
tried  to  back  off,  and  sneak  out  his  own  pistol  on  Steve, 
but,  Lord  bless  you,  Steve  had  him  plugged  twice  before 
you  could  say  <  Jack  Robinson.'  Yes,  sir.  Right  there 
where  you're  standing  now.  It  was  the  quickest  thing  I 
ever  see  done  in  my  life." 

Wyman  started,  for  his  eye  caught  the  dark  dis- 
colored stains  in  the  soft  puncheon  floor.  It  was  the  red 
seal  of  his  new  title  to  the  "  Mariquita."  He  gasped  in- 
coherently, "What  did  they  do  with  him?  " 

"  Oh,  old  man  Holman  planted  him,  down  there  at  his 
ranch.  Perhaps,  he'll  come  up  a  Latter  Day  Saint.  Who 
knows?  " 

It  was  a  most  judicious  investment,  the  pocket  flask 
which  kept  Wyman's  "spirits  "  up,  all  the  way  to  Gold  Hill, 
for,  dark  shadows  had  fallen  once  or  twice  over  his  future, 
golden  as  it  had  gleamed.  He  muttered  between  frequent 
drinks:  "The  past  is  all  closed  up;  the  Holmans  are 
all  gone;  the  girl  is  an  orphaned  waif;  Berard  and 
Devereux  are  both  dead.  They  can  now  watch  each 
other,"  he  gloomily  joked.  "This  fellow  Hooper  will 
surely  drift  away  to  ruin.  I  can  then  defy  the  Devil 
himself." 

With  an  expiring  gleam  of  caution,  Wyman  left  the  stage 
at  Gold  Hill.  To  his  delight,  he  found  the  silent  boniface 
there,  had  "  sold  out  rich"  and,  gone  "  to  the  States." 
Another  "active  young  man"  towered  behind  the  bar,  one 
who  was  of  a  fresher  grist  than  the  man  whose  friendship 
with  the  "  sports"  had,   perhaps,  induced  the   change  of 


IN    PAT    OEE.  Ill 

ownership  of  the  hotel.  Perfectly  satisfied  with  the  drift- 
ing of  the  leaves  of  Time  over  his  blind  trail,  Mr.  Wyman 
entered  the  hourly  stage,  and  returned,  in  peace,  to  Virginia 
City.  "  God  himself  couldn't  dig  up  all  the  little  threads 
of  this  thing  now.  It  is  buried,  buried  forever. "  This 
irreverent  self  gratulation  of  Wyman's  attested  both  the 
end  of  his  journey  and  the  emptiness  of  his  flask.  He  slept 
— a  happy  man. 

He  dreamed  strange  dreams  of  a  rosy  future,  that  night 
in  his  little  cabin  on  the  rocky  battlements  of  Mount  David- 
son. Happy  stars  shone  down  on  him,  for  the  faithful 
Swede  was  evidently  true  to  his  trust.  There  was  no  sign 
of  the  interloper,  and,  a  brief  visit  satisfied  him  that  his 
secret  marks  and  signals  had  been  left  undisturbed  in  tun- 
nel and  shaft.     The  "Mariquita"  was  safe  at  last! 

"I  have  nothing  left  to  fear  now.  I  am  all  right,  and  I 
will  now  set  up  my  machinery,  and  soon  be  in  the  richest 
pay  ore.  But,  the  millionaire  of  the  future  fell  asleep, 
dreaming  of  the  wistful  brown  eyes  of  the  Cleopatra  a  la 
mode,  who  had  paused  to  transfix  him  with  her  parthian 
glance  down  there  "  at  the  Bay,"  where  rivers  of  coveted 
diamonds  flashed  and  sparkled  in  Shreve's  windows. 

"  I  will  have  them  all  soon  at  my  beck  and  call,  men 
shall  bow  to  the  owner  of  the  Mariquita,  and,  women's 
white  arms  shall  draw  me  down  to  the  whiter  haven  of 
their  throbbing  bosoms.  Gold  is  the  one  potent  charm, 
and,  I  have  now  found  the  side  door  of  All  Baba's  cave." 

The  wild  wind  shook  the  frail  cabin  and  whistled  on, 
wailing  down  through  Grizzly  Canon,  where  the  now 
scattered  pyramid  of  rocks  weighted  down  the  man  who 
had  more  nerve  than  luck.  Steven  Berard  slept  on  as 
camly  as  his  victim  rested  far  away  under  the  grassy 
meadows  of  Holman's  ranch,  for  neither  pale  ghost 
haunted  the  sleep  of  the  fortunate  who  had  more 


112  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARI^UITA. 

luck  than  nerve.  It  was  reserved  for  Frederick  Wyman 
to  shine  out  later  as  "one of  Nature's  noblemen,"  in  that 
bright  constellation  of  bright  immortal  souls,  borne  out 
from  obscurity  on  the  golden  tide  of  Mount  Davidson's 
millions — the  evolution  of  Nature's  noblemen. 

The  spring  of  1865  found  Virginia  City  spreading  its 
ambitious  feelers  still  farther  along  the  sides  of  the  grim 
old  mountain.  Several  stately  brick  aiid  masonry  build- 
ings were  pointed  to  with  pride.  There  was  a  longer  line 
of  hoisting  works,  noisier  stamp  mills  and  greater  smoke 
clouds  drifting  along  the  Comstock  Lode.  Far  and  near, 
the  miners'  cabins  now  speckled  the  dreary  landscape  as  if 
distributed  by  some  gigantic  pepper  box,  fearfully  clinging 
to  every  little  rift  and  level  place.  The  near  approach  of 
the  railroad,  the  doubling  of  population,  and  an  ambi- 
tious efflorescence  of  the  "family  element,"  proved  that 
here  ' '  Civilization  on  its  luminous  wings,  soared,  Phoenix- 
like, to  Jove."  A  haughty  local  pride  shone  in  the  face 
of  every  "  honest  miner,"  for,  Nevada  was  a  State  at  last. . 
Its  silver  star  proudly  glittered  upon  the  banners  of  the 
irresistible  host  which  General  Grant  was  ready  to  hurl 
on  the  hard  held  lines  of  the  matchless  Lee. 

Virginia  City  was  gay  and  cheerful,  for  the  great  mines 
were  all  "  in  pay  ore."  The  names,  "  Gould  and  Curry," 
"Ophir,"  "  Crown  Point,"  "Mexican,"  "Imperial,"  and 
"  Chollar,"  had  gone  forth  to  the  astonished  world.  En- 
graved certificates  fluttered  around  the  brokers'  offices  of 
Virginia  City,  thicker  than  "leaves  in  Vallombrosa. " 
The  feverish  tick  of  the  telegraph,  day  and  night,  bore 
cipher-hidden  tidings  away  to  San  Francisco,  where  in  the 
"Big  Board,"  the  "  Little  Board,"  on  the  curbstone,  and 
at  each  corner,  the  blinder  children  of  blind  Plutus 
"  went  it  blind,"  daily,  on  their  favorite  "  gambles." 

The  sound  of  revelry  by  night  was,  howc*'  -   *   Viciously 


IN    PAY    ORE.  113 

regulated,  and,  the  social  tension  never  rose  again  to  the 
"hanging  point,"  in  the  prosperous  mountain  city.  The 
Carson  River  was  noisy  with  custom  stamp  mills;  long 
mule  trains,  groaning  teams,  and  sporadic  horsemen  at- 
tested the  vitalized  movement  of  the  queen  silver  city. 
For  already,  beneath  the  stony  surface,  the  great  pumps 
were  drawing  the  "  lower  levels,"  strangely  termed 
"lower,"  at  four  hundred  feet,  where  no  man  dared  to 
dream  that  the  miner's  pick  would  yet  be  swung  thirty- 
five  hundred  feet  below  the  flinty  crags,  over  which 
"Strideaway"  had  galloped,  when  Steve  Berard  went 
recklessly  on  to  his  death. 

In  all  this  blossoming  and  bourgeoning,  no  one  held  up 
his  chin  more  bravely  than  Frederick  Wyman,  the  "  ris- 
ing citizen."  Mr.  Wyman's  "  Sampling  Works,"  were 
now  a  well-known  center  of  activity.  In  the  long  winter 
of  1864,  a  practical  course  of  ore  working  and  assay 
studies,  had  fitted  the  borderer  for  his  assumed  calling.  A 
neat  little  industrial  center  was  the  Wyman  works,  where 
a  hundred  horse-power  engine  moved  a  fine  line  of  prac- 
tical machinery.  Men  wondered  at  the  pre-occupied  air 
of  the  prosperous  young  man.  But,  success  had  given  a 
searching  glance  to  his  eye;  boldness  came  with  the  bul- 
lion he  now  held  in  a  precious  secret  reserve,  and  the  name 
of  "Wyman  "  ornamented  the  City  Council.  A  substan- 
tial stone  house  had  replaced  his  cabin  at  the  mouth  of  the 
"Mariquita"  tunnel,  and  the  Magnolia  saloon  and  Golden 
Eagle  bar-room  lost  forever  the  inspiring  presence  of  the 
young  "business  man."  In  the  leasure  hours,  when 
not  running  his  enlarged  mills  upon  "custom  work," 
the  surviving  partner  of  the  "Mariquita"  had  verified, 
by  secret  explorations,  the  treasures  for  which  poor 
Devereux  had  died.     They  were  evidently  priceless! 

When  the  telegraphed  news  of  General  G*'    *'•   great 


114  MISS   DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

advance  on  the  collapsing  lines  of  the  defiant  Virginians 
at  Petersburg  made  March,  1865,  a  time  of  breathless 
national  anxiety,  Frederick  Wyman  finally  cast  up  his 
reckoning,  as  he  sat  alone,  in  his  comfortable  stone  house, 
on  a  spring  evening.  "This  is  the  beginning  of  the 
end,"  he  murmured,  over  his  San  Francisco  paper.  "  The 
United  States  will  soon  be  able  to  give  me  a  title,  without 
any  reference  to  the  Southern  Confederacy.  It's, all  up 
with  the  South." 

Prosperity  had  agreed  with  Wyman,  whose  mind  had 
long  since  relegated  to  Limbo,  the  haunting  shades  of  the 
departed  Devereux  and  Berard.  Lightly  had  he  borne  the 
death,  before  Atlanta,  of  his  own  father,  an  undefeated 
exponent  of  Kentuckian  valor.  His  own  cold,  selfish 
nature  had  been  engrossed  in  guarding  the  hidden  stolen 
treasure  of  the  hills.  As  he  turned  over  his  San  Francisco 
mail,  on  this  March  evening,  the  "rising  citizen"  was 
painfully  reminded  of  the  one  vulnerable  point  in  the 
Achilles  armor  of  his  title  to  the  stolen  mine.  For,  a 
neat  business  circular  and  card  accompanied  a  brief  letter, 
in  which  the  writer  tendered  his  business  facilities. 
Wyman's  hand  shook  as  he  gazed  at  the  showy  card. 
"Ah!  He  has  crawled  up!"  he  murmured  as  he  read, 


JAMES    WALTER    HOOPER, 
stock  a  exchanbe  broker, 

348  california  st., 
San  Francisco. 


"There's  the  only  man  who  might  annoy  me, — Jim  the 
Penman.  He  seems  to  be  crawling  up  in  the  world.  I 
wonder  who  is  behind  him.     He  certainly  was  not  over- 


IN    PAY    ORE.  115 

loaded  with  capital  when  he  left  here."  Wyman  enjoyed 
his  faint  sneer,  for  over  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  dore 
bullion  was  now  stored  away  on  his  own  private  account, 
in  the  vaults  of  the  leading  assay  and  bullion  exchange,  on 
the  Comstock.  "If  I  could  trust  this  smart  fellow,  he 
might  be  now  useful.  With  my  local  knowledge  here, 
and  a  well  arranged  cipher,  he  could  gather  in  some  of  the 
Virginia  City  securities,  often  at  a  rare  bargain.  But,  could 
I  trust  him?  There  is  only  one  kind  of  man  to  trust.  I 
don't  know  much  about  women.  On  principle,  I  wouldn't 
trust  any  one  of  the  bright-eyed  devils." 

Wyman's  eyes  glittered,  often  now,  with  a  strange  eager- 
ness. He  rose  and  paced  the  room.  Something  seemed 
to  be  calling  him  away.  "  Not  yet!  Not  yet!  "  he  gasped,  as 
floods  of  hot  blood  flamed  through  his  agile  form.  "Not 
until  I  am  a  millionaire.  Then,  then,  I  will  try  the 
'  Golden  Rule';  the  rule  of  the  Twenty-Dollar  Piece. 
For,  no  ear  is  deaf  to  its  ring.  Could  I  trust  to  this 
man?  The  only  safe  men  that  I  know  are  my  old  partners, 
'sleeping  partners.'  But,  I  must  keep  an  eye  on  him.  If 
he  gets  money — power  —  his  memory  may  call  up  the 
1  Mariquita. ' 

"Pshaw!  That's  all  safely  buried  now.  The  'Lone 
Star  '  has  effaced  the  memory  of  the  <  Mariquita. '  It 
was  a  capital  idea  to  change  the  name.  No  one  will  ever 
dig  up  the  records  of  the  relocation.  This  chap,  Hooper, 
might  however  keep  an  eye  on  me,  and  blackmail  me  a  bit. 
No,  he  will  be  afraid.  For,  there's  forgery  ahead  of 
Jim  the  Penman's  story.  No,  he  will  never  tell  it.  But 
I'll  watch  him.  I  may  find  him  to  be  a  good  business 
man  next  year,  perhaps."  And,  as  Wyman  gazed  around 
his  own  comfortable  abode,  he  thought  very  complacently 
of  several  thousand  shares  of  south  end  stocks  which  he 
had  quietly  picked  up  during  the  last  year. 


L 16  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF    THE    MARlQUITA. 

Marketing  a  few  of  his  mingled  gold  and  silver  bars 
from  the  "Lone  Star,"  now  and  then,  the  exchange  offices 
supposed  Wyman  to  be  only  realizing  on  the  "tribute 
bullion,"  paid  him  for  sampling  ores.  For,  these  huge 
dull-looking  bricks,  in  value  from  twelve  hundred  to  eight 
thousand  dollars,  were  then  current  at  their  stamped  re- 
finery value. 

"I  could,  perhaps,  use  some  of  my  idle  capital,"  mused 
Wyman,  "in  picking  up  stock  here,  if  I  had  a  man  to 
work  with  now;  for,  month  by  month,  the  rising  values 
and  daily  growing  activity  show  that  the  lead  is  being 
traced  down  to  the  '  Mariquita. '  When  I  push  my  work- 
ings it  will  be  a  natural  discovery,  and  people  will  think 
I  have  just  struck  a  'dead  thing.'"  The  slang  word, 
"dead  thing  "  brought  back  his  "  sleeping  partners,"  and 
Wyman  restored  his  complacency  with  a  visit  to  the  side- 
board. 

"The  one  mistake  of  my  whole  campaign  was  not  to 
have  traced  out  the  fate  of  that  woman  and  child,  to  the 
last  detail,  while  down'  at  the  Bay! '  "  he  soliloquized,  as  he 
seated  himself  again  before  the  cosy  lire.  "  This  fellow 
Hooper,  lying  loose  around  town,  might  prick  up  his  ears 
some  day  at-  the  name  Devereux."  The  great  pine  logs 
snajjped  and  crackled  cheerily  as  Wyman  laughed  away 
this  one  last  haunting  shadow.  "Bah!"  he  cried,  "Jim 
the  Penman  is  not  likely  to  haunt  hospitals  or  Catholic 
orphan  asylums  to  look  up  the  loose  ends  of  that  little 
Truckee  transaction.  No!  He  will  be  found  racing  after 
that  will-o'-the-wisp  woman,  who  made  a  fool  of  him 
away  in  the  East;  for  a  rascal  he  was  before,  yes,  and  a 
dangerous  rascal,  too.  I  must  keep  an  eye  on  this  one  shady 
party.  His  star  is  beginning  to  twinkle  a  little  higher 
than  I  thought  it  would,  but  he's  powerless  to  hurt  me 
in  any  way."  Wyman  started  as  his  Chinese  servant 
glided  into  the  room. 


IN    PAY    ORE.  1  17 

"One  man  want  see  you!"  the  bland  Mongolian  re- 
marked, in  a  voice  void  of  emphasis.  Wyman  had 
jumped  up  in  a  sudden  alarm. 

"  Damn  that  fellow!  He  comes  stealing  in  like  a 
ghost,"  cried  the  irritated  miner,  as  he  stepped  to  the 
door.  His  right  hand  was  bestowed  neatly  a  la  Berard, 
ready  for  either  peace  or  war.  One  useful  lesson  he  had 
learned  from  Steven! 

"Hello!  Just  the  man  I  was  thinking  of.  Come  in, 
Andy,"  cried  Wyman  hospitably,  as  the  huge  bulk  of  the 
"  Conistocker  "  darkened  the  door.  "  Why,  you  are  no 
end  of  a  swell,  Andy!  "  continued  the  host,  in  some  sur- 
prise, as  he  pushed  out  a  cigar  box,  and  then  motioned  to 
his  Mongolian  adjutant.  The  Chinaman  adjusted  the 
drinkables  with  the  same  passionless  leer  he  would  have 
used  inlaying  out  a  deal  at  "  fan-tan,"  spreading  an  opium 
"  lay  out,"  or  setting  up  "  hemlock  "  for  the  "  justest  of 
the  Greeks."  The  Sphinx  of  all  of  the  Sast  is  John 
Chinaman. 

"I've  just  been  down  to  the  Bay,  Wyman,"  said  Andy, 
as  by  a  star  observation,  he  measured  a  four-finger  drink. 
"A  fellow  like  me  has  got  to  dress  up  to  the  style, 
down  there  now." 

"Everything  all  right,  with  you,  Andy,"  said  Wyman, 
as  he  surveyed  the  resplendent  appearance  of  the  ex-com- 
mittee man  of  the  "101." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  have  made  some  very  neat  turns,  lately," 
cried  Bowen,  complacently,  as  he  bit  the  tip  from  a  fine 
cigar.      "  I  hear  that  you,  too,  are  rushing  things." 

"  About  all  we  can  do,  all  the  while,  here!  I'm  think- 
ing of  extending  the  reduction  works.  If  I  can  hold  my 
present  business,  I  may  soon  put  up  a  mill  of  my  own  clown  on 
the  Carson,"  slowly  replied  Wyman,  feeling  instinctively 
that  Bowen  had  some  special  object  in  his  visit. 


118  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"  I  wish  you  would  put  up  a  mill,  up  here,  on  the  lead, 
Fred,"  said  Bowen,  his  face  glowing  with  eager  emotion, 
and  good  whisky.  "The  fact  is,  that  I  came  down  here 
to  have  a  l  square '  talk  with  you.  I  have  an  idea  of 
making  an  apparent  show  of  opening  some  of  my  old 
locations  down  here,  and,  then,  getting  them  incorporated. 
There's  money  in  it.  You  can  sell  anything  now.  I  want 
to  have  something  visible  to  back  up  my  beautiful  stock 
certificate.  The  fact  is,  Wyman,  anything  with  an  ele- 
gant steel  engraving  on  it,  will  sell  down  at  '  'Frisco '  just 
now!  Women,  merchants,  servants,  outsiders,  mechanics, 
laborers,  every  one  is  beginning  to  take  a  little  flyer  of 
their  own,  and  I've  got  a  man  down  there  now  to  help  me, 
who  is  as  smart  as  chain  lightning.  If  I  can  only  get  up 
something  that  he  can  sell,  he  will  rush  things.  I  never 
thought  he  had  the  *  go '  in  him,  which  he  is  showing  now. 
I'll  let  you  into  the  deal,  Fred,  if  you'll  only  take  a 
hand." 

"Who's  your  smart  friend?"  sneered  Wyman,  as  he 
narrowly  eyed  his  lymphatic  visitor. 

Bowen  burst  out  into  a  horse  laugh.  "You'd  never 
guess,  but  he  is  a  lightning  stylish  broker  now,  and  he's 
got  a  holy  terror  of  a  pretty  woman,  too,  behind  him.  Do 
you  remember  the  fellow  we  once  called  '  Jim  the  Pen- 
man.'" Wyman's  face  was  pale,  and  whiteninge  very  in- 
stant, as  he  strolled  over  to  the  sideboard  and  sampled  his 
private  cognac.  Five-dollar  ordinary  whisky  was  good 
enough  for  his  visitor. 

"Do  you  mean  that  man  Hooper?"  carelessly  queried 
Wyman.  But,  he  did  not  dare  to  turn  around  and  face 
the  burly  miner.  He  had  not  yet  caught  the  valuable 
secret  of  Gambler  Berard's  nerve.  And,  the  letter  and 
ornate  card  of  James  Walter  Hooper  were  even  now  lying 
on  his  desk  in  plain  sight. 


IN    PAY    ORE.  119 

"  The  very  same  man.  He's  in  pay  ore  now,  you  bet!" 
energetically    answered   Bowen.      "Say!"   he   rose,    and 

then  whispered  confidentially,    "You  know ,  the  big 

banker? "  Wyman  was  now  all  attention,  as  he  hastily 
nodded.  "  Well,"  lazily  answered  Bowen,  "This  party 
in  calico,  or  rather  silk  and  laces,  runs  the  big  banker's 
<  private  affairs,'  and  Mr.  James  Walter  Hooper,  <  Es- 
quire,' is  her  especial  '  business  man.'"  Wyman  seated 
himself  quietly,  and  gazed  blankly  at  the  returned  Argo- 
naut. 

"What's  your  scheme?"  he  finally  demanded  in  a  sharp, 
cold  voice.  His  narrow  nature  was  up  in  arms.  Every 
quivering  nerve  was  ringing  its  hidden  alarm  bell ;  for,  ' '  Jim 
the  Penman,"  once,  a  nomadic  vaurien,  now  a  "promi- 
nent" man,  and  the  "power  behind  the  throne,"  whereon 
a  veiled  goddess  sat  ruling  the  great  banker,  was  a  most 
dangerous  shade  looming  up,  far  too  near  the  "Lone  Star. " 

Andy  Bowen's  eyes  twinkled  with  an  easy  cunning,  as  he 
said,  < '  You  remember  that  this  partner  of  yours,  Dev- 
ereux ?  " 

"  What  about  him?  "  snappishly  cried  Wyman,  spring- 
ing up. 

"Well!"  lazily  cried  Bowen,  reaching  out  for  another 
drink.  "I  'jumped'  a  whole  lot  of  locations  of  his  up 
here  a  few  months  ago.  They  were  all  advertised  for 
assessment  work,  and  I  went  in  and  got  hold,  cheaply,  of  the 
whole  lot.     I  wish  to  God  that  I  knew  where  he  is  now." 

Frederick  Wyman  thought  of  the  unknown  grave  hid- 
den by  the  long,  waving  grass  of  the  Carson  meadows.  His 
own  blood  surged  back  to  his  heart  as  he  thought,  <  <  Thank 
God!  Old  Holman  has  cleared  out  forever."  Bowen's 
loosely  digested  story  ran  on,  under  the  gentle  stimulus  of 
his  "toddy."  "  I  wish  that  I  could  get  a  clear  title  direct 
from  him.     I  am  going  to  incorporate  all  these   claims  as 


120  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

new  mines  and  then,  let  Hooper  rush  the  stock  out  on  the 
market.  Now,  I  don't  care  to  throw  away  fifty  thousand 
dollars  to  put  up  a  real  stamp  mill,  on  a  humbug  lot  of 
mines.  Now,  Wyman,  if  you  built  a  mill  up  here,  I  could 
make  a  good  show,  and  you  could  run  a  lot  of  my  ore 
through  for  me  and  keep  the  sham  up  long  enough  to  float 
the  mines.  I  could  buy  or  steal  a  lot  of  rich  ore.  I'll 
guarantee  you  a  good,  round  profit,  and  I  suppose  that 
you'll  soon  want  a  mill  if  you  open  the  '  Mariquita,'  now 
that  you've  bought  out  Devereux?  Hooper  told  me  to  see 
you  and  talk  the  thing  over  with  you."  Frederick  Wyman's 
face  was  livid  with  rage,  as  he  walked  away  to  a  window 
and  then  glared  down  into  the  mouth  of  Grizzly  Canon. 

"Did  Hooper  tell  you  that  I  had  bought  Devereux  out?" 
he  suddenly  said  in  a  thick  voice,as  he  faced  Andy  Bowen, 
who  was  regarding  him  with  the  lazy  adroitness  gained  at 
much  patient  "  poker  "  practice. 

"  Why,  yes!  "  simply  replied  Andy.  "  Didn't  you  see 
Hooper  when  you  were  down  at  the  Bay?  " 

"No!  "  slowly  answered  the  disturbed  surviving  partner, 
"but,  I  met  him  on  the  road.  I  may  have  told  him  that  I 
had  bought  Devereux  out.  I  don't  know  where  Bob  Dev- 
ereux is  now.  I  guess  that  he  just  let  the  whole  thing 
slide,  and  then  went  East  with  what  money  I  paid  him. 
I've  changed  the  name  of  the  mine,  however,  to  the  '  Lone 
Star.'"       Andy  was  cogitating  deeply. 

"  I  think  you're  about  on  the  level  just  to  strike  the  tail 
end  of  the  lead,  at  about  five  hundred  feet.  I  believe  that 
you've  really  got  a  mine  there,"  open-heartedly  mused 
Bowen.  ' '  I  always  thought  so.  Why  don't  you  push  the 
thing?" 

"Well,  I  will  be  frank,"  answered  Wyman,  "  I  do  not 
care  for  partners.  I'm  doing  pretty  well  now,  Andy,  and 
making  some  money.     I  called  that  mine  the  *  Lone  Star,' 


IN   PAY    ORE.  121 

because  I'm  going  to  push  it  alone  when  I  can  afford  to. 
But,  I  won't  overreach  myself.  The  fact  is,  Andy,"  and 
Wyman  smiled  a  wolfish  smile,  as  he  surveyed  his  own 
handsome  personage,  "I  want  to  live  like  a  gentleman, 
when  I  can  get  into  the  right  place  in  life.  You  see  my  • 
people  were  l  way  up  '  in  Kentucky.  I  am  a  gentleman 
born,  a  southern  gentleman,  too." 

"Going  into  politics?"  smiled  the  good-natured  pros- 
pector. 

"No,"  replied  the  southerner.  "We  have  already  got 
a  couple  of  '  sage  brush '  senators,  and,  you  know,  I'm  on 
the  wrong  side.     I  was  a  rebel  sympathizer." 

"Oh,  yes,  you're  a  secesh^"  easily  laughed  Bowen. 
"Well,  what  do  you  say  to  going  in  with  us  on  this  deal? 
Hooper  is  as  sharp  as  a  weasel,  and  he's  got  an  all-fired 
smart  woman  now  to  back  him.  She's  got  money,  too. 
God,  she  is  a  stunner!  I  saw  her  wearing  diamond  ear- 
rings down  there  as  big  as  hazel-nuts.  No  humbug.  Real 
sparklers.  She's  a  ripper,  a  dazzler."  Wyman  sighed  as 
he  thought  of  the  poor  waif  of  fortune,  Hooper,  basking  in 
the  smiles  of  such  a  sultana. 

And,  Mr.  Andrew  Bowen  was  right.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
verity  that  the  great  firm  of  San  Francisco  jewelers  had 
imagined  that  these  especially  selected  stones  were  in- 
tended to  decorate  the  lawful  spouse  of  the  sharp-featured 
banker.  But,  the  "head  of  the  house"  smiled  a  grim, 
quiet  smile,  as  the  banker  paid  for  them  with  a  cashier's 
check,  and  then,  carelessly  dropped  the  blue  velvet  box  in 
his  pocket,  with  the  remark,  "This  is  a  little  private  mat- 
ter." And,  dashing  Vinnie  Hinton  merrily  laughed,  as 
she  allowed  the  banker  that  evening  to  adjust  the  two  bits 
of  dazzling  carbon  in  the  filmy  sea-shell  pink  of  her  own 
pretty  ears.  "In  consideration  of  your  good  taste,  I  will 
allow  you  to  take  the  liberty,"  the  queen  of  the  year  mur- 


122  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQTJITA 

mured,  with  a  smile  which  was  a  devil's  draught  of  sor- 
cery. In  the  dusky  splendor  of  that  concealed  harem  on 
Sacramento  street,  no  such  witching  devil  had  ever  reigned 
before.  And  so,  this  strange  woman  of  a  new  empire 
was  the  Egeria  of  the  rising  young  broker! 

"What  do  you  say,  Wyman,  can  we  make  a  deal?" 
urged  Big  Andy  as  he  took  a  last  draught,  and  then  lit  a 
fresh  cigar,  before  facing  the  evening  zephyr.  "There's 
big  money  in  it  for  all  of  us." 

"I  will  think  it  over,  Andy,"  answered  the  fox-like 
Wyman,  who  was  now  sheltered  far  back  in  his  mental 
cave  of  safe  retreat,  a  cautious  reserve. 

"When  shall  I  see  you  again?  "  The  "  surviving  part- 
ner" affected  a  carelessness  which  he  was  far  from  feeling. 
"  If  these  brutes  were  to  sink  down  on  some  of  these 
locations,  they  might  really  strike  the  ledge.  I  think  that 
I'll  play  them  a  double  cross.  I  think  I  see  the  way,"  he 
mused,  as  Bowen  reached  for  his  sombrero. 

"I'm  going  to  bring  some  surveyors  down  to-morrow, 
and  block  things  out  in  the  way  I  wish,  so  I  can  work  up 
their  locations  to  the  best  showing.  I  may  come  in  and 
see  you.  Are  you  safe  from  eaves-droppers  h'ere?" 
Bowen  lazily  answered. 

"  Only  my  Chinaman;  and  he  speaks  no  English.  Come 
in  then,  and  take  breakfast  with  me,"  answered  Wyman, 
as  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"It's  a  whack,"  remarked  Bowen.  "  I  guess  we  can 
fix  up  a  little  deal.  The  fact  is,  there's  entirely  too  much 
money  clown  at  the  Bay.  Now,  Wyman,  you've  got  the 
education  and  blood,  and  the  good  looks,  too.  You  could 
run  all  these  things  in  good  shape  down  there,  and  also 
live  like  a  fighting-cock.  A  man  like  you  is  lost  up  here 
in  Virginia  City.  Why  don't  you  run  down  and  see 
Hooper  himself  if  we  can  hit    it    off?  "     The  giant  miner 


IN    PAY    ORE.  123 

lurched  out  into  the  night,  with  an  informally  shouted 
good-bye,  "  So  long,"  leaving  Frederick  Wyman  excited, 
and,  far  more  impressed  by  his  words  than  ever  Bowen 
would  have  dared  to  hope.  A  new  life  was  offered  to 
him  now  ! 

"It  is  strange,  strange!"  dreamed  Wyman,  by  his  dying 
fire.  "  This  thing  closes  right  in  around  me.  It's  the 
devil's  own  luck."  And,  he  tossed  that  night  in  uneasy 
dreams,  for  there  came  back  to  him  the  sinuous,  gliding 
beauty  of  the  unknown,  whose  brown  eyes  had  thrilled 
him  to  the  very  marrow,  as  she  flashed  him  that  one  not 
unconcerned  glance.  He  dreamed  of  the  nameless  divinity 
whom  he  had  seen  on  his  visit.  She  was  the  "  first  bit  of 
choice  goods  "  he  had  marked  at  the  devil's  auction.  And, 
on  this  lonely,  anxious  night,  he  strangely  dreamed  that  they 
were  reveling  together.  That  her  rich  sensuous  lips  mur- 
mured, "It  is  you;  I  have  waited  for  you!"  And  in  his 
dream,  he  realized  all  the  hidden  treasures  of  the  "Lone 
Star." 

Morning,  crisp  and  clear,  brought  him  the  conviction 
that  he  must  either  rule  this  new  combination  of  Bowen  and 
Hooper,  or  else  in  the  end  be  gravely  annoyed  by  them. 
"Shall  I  go  down  to  San  Francisco  and  face  this  ex- 
forger?  Have  I  money  enough  yet?  or  shall  I  open  the 
Lone  Star?"  Out  on  the  crags  of  the  mountain  side, 
Wyman  found  his  own  keen  brain  active  in  its  wary 
counsels.  Already  a  line  of  flag  poles,  indicated  the 
rapid  work  of  Bowen's  surveyors.  "  By  Heavens!  I  have 
it!"  cried  Wyman.  "One  or  two  of  these  locations  join 
my  i  Mariquita '  of  the  olden  time.  I  must  operate  so 
as  to  get  them  entirely  into  my  own  hands,  and  so  keep 
off  all  encroachment.  Joining  these  fellows,  they  will 
be  always  my  friends  in  the  future.  I  will  make  them  my 
blind   dupes;  for   I  will  be   on  the  inside,  and  I  will  buy 


124  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF    THE    MAEIQUITA. 

in  and  control  all  the  nearest  locations  to  the  'Lone 
Star.'  I  can  easily  handle  Mr.  Andy  Bowen.  Whisky 
first,  and  then  get  him  well  in  my  debt.  Besides,  I 
will  be  always  here,  near  him.  I  must,  however,  go  to 
San  Francisco  to  see  Hooper.  To  rule  him,  to  gain  a 
fatal  leverage  upon  him,  I  must  try  and  take  that  woman 
away  from  him  !  I  wonder  what  she  is  like.  Hooper  is 
not  such  a  beauty." 

Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  regarded  himself  with  a  pleasant 
adulation  in  the  glass,  as  he  returned  to  his  domicile  for 
the  early  coffee.  ' '  Money  I  can  also  bring  to  bear  on  her, 
at  the  right  time,  out  of  the  « Lone  Star's '  hidden 
treasury.  This  woman  probably  knows  all  the  secrets  of 
the  greatest  operator  in  San  Francisco.  Bowen  says  he  is 
her  blind  slave.  I  am  younger  than  her  millionaire 
master,  younger  than  Hooper,  her  working  slave,  and  I 
have  plenty  of  loose  money.  I  can  lavish  it  on  her.  And, 
what  woman  ever  withstood  the  right  sum  of  money,  at 
the  right  time?"  He  sneered  again.  A  glow  of  future 
glory  lit  up  the  unruffled  brow  of  the  "  surviving  partner." 
"I  can  see  a  broadening  path.  I  have  the  hidden  power 
in  my  hands  here.  And,  by  God!  she  shall  teach  me  all 
the  tricks  of  her  millionaire  protector,  and  then  make  me 
a  man  of  the  golden  circle.  I  will  go  in  with  these  two 
men,  and  control  them,"  he  decided.  "Yes,  I  will  go 
down  also  to  San  Francisco,"  he  murmured,  "and  it  will 
be  diamond  cut  diamond.  She  shall  light  my  way  on  to 
the  future  with  the  Lamp  of  Love,  and  I,  will  furnish 
the  golden  oil  to  feed  the  sacred  flame;  for  no  long  con- 
tinued passion  can  ignore  the  fact  that  Mr.  Cupid  has 
golden  wings." 

There  was  a  pleasant  smile  on  the  face  of  Mr.  Fred 
Wyman  as  he  welcomed  his  lumbering  fly  into  the  parlor 
where  Wyman  set  himself  slyly  at  work  to  play  the  spider. 


IN    PAY    ORE.  125 

"  About  two  bottles  of  the  best  whisky,  will  bring  out  the 
whole  story,"  he  craftily  mused;  and  it  was  true  that  a 
very  fair  word  picture  of  the  veiled  goddess  delighted 
Wyman  before  Andy  Bowen  carried  a  "good  load"  of 
that  best  whisky  up  to  the  streets  of  Virginia  City. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Bowen  left  Wyman's 
private  office.  "You  think  then,  you'll  go  down  and  see 
Hooper?  "  he  urged,  hoping  for  a  definite  answer.  Already 
a  sybarite,  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  allowed  his  glowing 
imagination  to  dwell  on  Andy  Bowen's  rough  sketch  of 
the  veiled  goddess,  for  several  days  before  he  decided 
finally  to  answer  in  the  affirmative.  But,  his  lynx  eyes  had 
fathomed  every  detail  of  Andy  Bowen's  most  ingenious 
proposed  swindles.  "I  will  make  both  these  fellows 
swindle  themselves,  and,  by  Jove,  I  will  then  take  this  be- 
witching woman  away  from  Hooper,  but  not  till  she  has 
learned  to  serve  the  owner  of  the  'Lone  Star.'  I  need  a 
woman  to  lift  me,  not  one  to  slave  for,"  he  mused. 

A  week  later,  Andy  Bowen  sat  with  beaming  eyes,  listen- 
ing to  the  pearls  of  wisdom  falling  from  the  lips  of 
Frederick  Wyman.  The  cosy  interior  of  Wyman's 
bachelor  home  was  a  type  of  cheerfulness  itself,  as  the  two 
men  sat  at  a  large  table  covered  with  plats  and  maps.  Bowen, 
in  working  clothes,  and  full  of  a  subject  which  he  was 
master  of,  was  the  embodiment  of  the  rough,  hardy 
American  prospector.  He  had  laid  away  his  magnificent 
garb,  for  use  in  future  visits  to  "the  Bay,"  as  these 
human  chamois  termed  San  Francisco. 

"The  fact  is,  Wyman,  I  attracted  a  good  deal  of  atten- 
tion here  in  that  rig,"  said  Andy,  as  he  deftly  manipulated 
his  toddy  with  a  long  spoon. 

"I  should  imagine  so,"  drily  answered  Wyman,  whose 
undeveloped  aesthetic  tastes  were,  at  least,  above  cluster 
pins,  star   spangled  waistcoats  and  trousers  of  a  damning 


126  MISS    J>EVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

intricacy  of  brilliant  plaid.  Two  pound  gold  watches, 
massive  bullion  dog  chains,  specimen  rings  and  diamond 
studs,  neatly  infesting  solf erino  colored  flannel  shirts,  were 
alien  even  to  border  Kentucky  taste. 

"Yaas,"  thoughtfully  answered  Andy.  "Firstly,  you 
see,  that  outfit  cost  me  about  twenty  dollars  a  clay  extra 
for  drinks."  , 

"How  so?"  queried  Wyman  in  some  surprise.  He  had 
never  been  very  convivial,  and  he  had  also  feared  to  become 
a  saloon  lounger,  while  the  secret  of  the  "Lone  Star,"  erst- 
while the  "Mariquita,"  burned  in  his  locked-up  bosom. 
He  had  also  sworn  a  solemn  oath  never  to  "give  away" 
his  own  secrets  while  drunk.  He  had  seen  too  many  fool 
shows  of  the  kind.  The  two  sleeping  partners  might 
avenge  themselves,  even  from  their  forgotten  graves. 

"  Oh!  I  had  to  <  wet  that  suit  of  clothes,'  and  <  set  'em 
up  '  for  the  <  whole  house,'  wherever  I  went.  Besides,  by 
hookey,  every  fellow  I  owed  a  dollar  to  up  here  came  piling, 
down  on  me  for  the  'cold  coin.'  They  thought  I  had 
struck  it  richer  than  <  Sandy  Bowers. '  Now,  I  had  also  to 
pay  off  a  whole  lot  of  old  <  whisky '  and  '  poker  debts,'  and 
I  hold  that  it's  clean  throwing  money  away,  when  a  fel- 
low is  forced  to  pay  up  this  old  dead-horse  money." 

"You  are  quite  right,  Andy,"  agreed  Wyman,  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  maps.  He  was  studying  the  interlaced 
"locations,"  which  lapped  and  overlapped  along  the  five 
or  six  miles  of  the  mountain  sides  in  wild  confusion. 
"Have  you  all  your  new  lines  laid  out  properly  here?" 
brusquely  queried  the  borderer. 

"  In  grand  style,  to  the  queen's  taste,"  cheerfully  re- 
marked Andy.  "  I  paid  four  hundred  dollars  to  the  survey- 
ors for  this,  and  for  the  record  of  these  sixteen  locations. 
Hooper  sent  me  up  the  new  names,  and  they  are  all  "way 
up."     Wyman    studied  a   neat   side  .scroll   whereon   the 


IN    PAY    ORE.  127 

legend,  "  The  Hooper,  Bowen  &  Co. 's  properties,"  bore 
the  list  of  the  surface  claims  proposed  to  be  incorporated 
and  handled:  "  Forest  Belle,"  "Southern  Chief,"  "Rising 
Star,"  "  Pearl  of  Nevada,"  "  Champion,"  and  so  on  to  the 
end,  read  out  Wyman  slowly.  His  thin  lips  parted  in 
their  usual  sneer. 

"  I  suppose  the  brown-eyed  witch  named  some  of  these, 
Andy?  They  do  look  a  little  better  than  *  Jackrabbit,' 
<  Lone  Wolf,'  <  Six  shooter,'  and  <  Walleye,'  or  «  Coyote.'  " 

"  Oh,  yes!  you  bet  she  did!"  retorted  Bowen.  "She's 
up  to  every  move  that  Hooper  makes.  Why,  that  there 
woman's  only  got  a  girl  shaped  head,  and  a  pair  of  'half 
cryin'  eyes,'  but  she  is  a  regular  lightning  striker.  My 
God  !  she's  got  the  nerve."  Andy  "located"  his  toddy, 
as  he  remarked,  "If  her  big  backer  ever  found  out  the 
little  game  she's  playing  with  Hooper,  he'd  land  Jim  in  the 
State's  prison,  and  run  the  woman  right  out  of  the  State. " 
Wyman's  eyes  flamed  with  a  velvety  softness  of  tanta- 
lized desire,  as  Bowen  continued.  "  The  very  last  thing 
she  did  was  to  give  me  a  private  note  to  the  old  lawyer 
who  runs 's  business  up  here." 

"What  did  he  say?"  continued  Andy,  answering  the 
question  of  Wyman's  eager  eyes. 

"He  just  told  me  he'd  put  all  the  incorporation  papers 
through  at  once  for  me,  and  it  wouldn't  cost  me  a  cent. 
She  said  to  me  when  I  left,  '  Andy,  I'll  ask  the  Judge  to 
supper  when  he  comes  down,  and  you'll  find  him  very 
obliging.'  And,  so  I  did!  She  told  me,  too,  to  go  and 
see  *  Sandy  Bowers' '  wife.  You  know  they  call  her  <  the 
Washoe  seeress,'  since  the  'bank  gang  '  got  most  of  Sandy's 
property  away  from  him.  They  all  pay  her  for  her  opin- 
ion. You  see  she's  the  oldest  hand  of  a  respectable  woman 
up  here,  and  the  boys,  naturally,  give  her  all  the  points. 
She's  a  kind  of  second-sight  woman." 


128  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"Did  you  really  go  and  see  Mrs.  Bowers?"  anxiously 
asked  Wyman,  his  heart  beating  lest  the  gnomes  of  the 
"  Lone  Star  "  might  have  chattered  to  this  queer  old  front- 
ier prophetess.  Wyman  feared  the  grizzly  shades  of  his 
"  sleeping  partners."  ."  By  heaven!  I  believe  I'll  have  the 
old  Indian  dig  up  Berard  and  pitch  him  in  the  Carson 
River,"  he  mused,  as  Andy  volubly  replied: 

"Mother  Bowers  told  me  that  there  was  a  big  mine 
hidden  down  here.  She  looks  in  a  glass  ball  and  pre- 
tends to  see  what's  underground.  « But,  it's  not  for  you, 
it's  for  some  one  else, '  she  cackled,  as  she  stopped  short. 
So,  I'm  going  to  speculate  on  them  locations  and  sell 
them."  Wy man's  heart  was  leaping  wildly  in  a  strange 
unrest.  "Now  you've  got  the  whole  lay-out,  Fred," 
finished  up  Bowen.  "I've  had  a  dozen  telegrams  lately 
from  Hooper.  He's  got  a  man  waiting  down  there.  I 
suppose  that  the  witch  woman  has  twisted  some  other 
capitalist  around  that  pretty  finger  of  hers,  and  got  him 
'on  a  string.'  You've  got  first  show  with  us,  Fred,  but 
you  must  talk  turkey  now.  You  see  the  mill  would  be  of 
use  to  you  when  you  open  your  mine." 

"I  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Andy,"  cried  Wyman,  who  now 
had  a  strange,  wild  feeling  gnawing  at  his  heart.  Those 
night  hours  of  the  last  week  had  showed  to  him  dazzling 
dreams  of  wealth,  power,  of  all  the  myriad  pleasures  of 
the  fast,  fierce,  life  of  the  reckless  moneyed  circles  of  San 
Francisco.  This  woman  of  Circe-like  charms  seemed  to 
have  the  key  to  every  hidden  mystery.  The  young  man 
shut  his  eyes  a  moment  and  drifted  on  in  wild  dreams  of 
all  that  passion's  tide  can  bring  sweeping  along  youth's 
gay  bark  between  golden  gleaming  shores;  for  those 
brown     "half   cryin' "    eyes    seemed    to    lure    him    on! 

"You've  got  four  locations  there,  of  the  sixteen  you 
own   which   touch    my  <  Lone    Star.'     Now,   if   you   and 


IN   PAY    ORE.  129 

Hooper  will  organize  these  and  give  me  all  the  stock,  so 
I'll  have  no  boundary  trouble,  I'll  then  go  in  with  you 
even  on  the  other  twelve.  I'll  put  up  a  good  ten-stamp 
mill  here  of  my  own  in  grand  shape.  It  will  cost  me  fully 
fifty  thousand  dollars.  I'll  work  off  all  your  sample  ores 
in  any  way  you  want,  and  stand  in,  square  with  you.  I've 
got  my  own  assayer,  too,  here  now,  and  I  can  give  your 
twelve  mines  on  the  market,  any  reports  and  standing  you 
want.  Now,  I'll  also  put  up  an  even  third  of  all  the 
money  to  handle  these  twelve,  but,  you  and  Hooper  must 
give  me  the  four;  all  the  stock,  except  just  enough  to  keep 
you  and  him,  and  a  few  more  men  whom  we  name  as  di- 
rectors. In  the  other  affair,  we  share  and  share  alike,  and 
I'll  so  go  in  with  you  and  help  you  rob  those  damned  fools 
down  at  the  Bay.  We  might  as  well  have  their  money  as 
any  one  else!  What  do  you  say,  Andy?  "  Wyman's  hand 
trembled  slightly  as  he  tried  his  own  Otard,  Dupuy  &  Co. 
cognac. 

"  It's  a  whack  as  far  as  I  go,"  genially  said  Andy.  "  I'll 
telegraph  Hooper.  The  little  woman  stole  a  couple  of 
private  cipher  codes  from  her  big  banker,  and  she's  got 
one  that  he  gave  her,  too.  I'll  have  the  answers  all  to- 
morrow. But,  Hooper's  in  a  great  hurry.  When  could 
you  go  down?  "  Bowen's  eyes  gleamed  with  a  rough 
good  humor. 

"If  I  shut  things  down  here,  and  you  can  stay  and 
watch  my  place,  I  could  leave  to-morrow  night.  I  could 
stay  for  a  week  at  the  city,  and  then  order  the  mill  and 
come  right  back.  I've  had  the  mill  site  surveyed  and 
plans  drawn  for  some  time." 

"  All  right,"  cried  Andy,  "It  will  be  a  go.  I'll  go  now 
and  telegraph,  and,  I  tell  you,  Fred,  Hooper  will  give  you 
a  rattling  good  time  down  there.  He  is  a  high  flyer  now. 
You  are  just  the  boy  to  put  on  style  with  the  best  of 
them." 


130  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

In  ten  minutes,  Wyman  was  left  dreaming  alone  before  the 
fire.  His  altered  circumstances  and  his  concealed  treasure 
had  warranted  him  in  preparing  the  means  of  showing  a 
somewhat  braver  front  than  on  his  first  visit  to  San  Fran- 
cisco. * '  I  think  I  will  do.  I  will  let  her  educate  me  a 
bit,"  mused  Wyman,  "if  she  is  the  right  one.  Noth- 
ing like  a  woman  to  bring  a  man  around.  I  wonder  if 
these  two  fellows  will  really  drop  into  my  trap.  If  they 
do,  I  am  all  right,  if  I  can  only  play  a  winning  game  with 
this  pretty  '  she-devil.'  She  can  open  the  door  for  me  of 
that  'inside  ring,'  which  runs  this  whole  coast.  If  she 
does,  then  I  am  a  made  man.  But,  my  lady,  the  woman 
who  will  betray  one  man,  will  find  a  way  to  deceive  an- 
other at  the  right  time.  She  shall  never  know  the  secrets 
of  the  'Lone  Star.'  It  shall  shine  for  me  alone.  But,  if  I 
can  use  her  to  witch  Hooper  and  Andy  Bowen,  it  will  be 
well  worth  my  while  to  change  a  couple  of  these  ore  bars 
into  a  necklace  for  that  swan-like  neck  of  hers."  And 
Mr.  Wyman  dreamily  repeated  a  childish  proverb  of  his 
own,  "Nothing  for  nothing  in  this  world."  "Once  in  the 
ring  with  these  tAvo  smart  rascals  between  me  and  the 
public,  I  can  go  on  up  to  the  head.  And  then!  then  I  will 
show  them  what  it  is  to  live." 

Never  had  Andy  Bowen  hurled  his  huge  bulk  along  as 
smartly  as  when,  next  day,  he  hurried  down  from  the 
Western  Union  Telegraph  office  to  Wyman's  works.  The 
eager  "surviving  partner"  had  already  marked  Andy  in 
his  "downward  career,"  and  it  was  easy  to  divine  from 
the  reckless  haste  of  the  prospector  that  he  was  the  bearer 
of  good  tidings.  Wyman  looked  up  calmly  from  an  in- 
spection of  his  daily  assay  book,  as  Bowen  burst  into  the 
private  office.     In  his  hand  he  waved  two  dispatches. 

"Here's  one  for  you.  Read  it!  I  ciphered  this  out, 
and  this  to  me  is  Hooper's  answer.     He  says:   '  Proposi- 


IN    PAY    ORE.  131 

tion  accepted  just  as  made.  Please  have  friend  come  at 
once;  papers  drawn  here;  send  all  maps  and  papers  you 
have  ready  by  him.'  "  Wyman  had  learned  nerve  enough 
to  control  any  outward  gleam  of  satisfaction  as  he  listened 
while  his  eye  rested  on  his  private  dispatch.  "Meet  you 
at  boat;  dine  with  me  at  Martin's;  telegraph  from  Sacra- 
mento." Extending  his  hand,  he  calmly  said,  "Andy, 
it's  a  bargain,  we  are  three  of  a  kind  now."  The  seal  of 
the  spirit  soon  ratified  the  ambitious  compact  in  which 
Wyman  became  the  "Co."  of  the  elegantly  engrossed  map 
title. 

Three  days  later,  Fred  Wyman  was  still  calmly  observ- 
ant as  he  entered  a  private  room  at  Martin's  Restaurant, 
"  down  at  the  Bay,"  with  the  resplendent  Hooper.  As  a 
door  opened,  and  a  beautiful  woman  swept  into  the  salon 
where  the  feast  was  set  for  three,  Wyman's  heart  leaped 
up  as  a  velvety  voice  murmured,  "I  think  we  have  met 
once  before,  last  year."  And  now  he  was  under  the  spell 
of  the  "  half  cryin'  eyes." 


132  MISS   DEVEREUX   OE  THE   MARIQUITA. 


BOOK    II 
In  Bonanza  Days. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

One  of  Nature's  Noblemen. 

The  July  morning  sun  streaming  down  over  the  Coast 
Range  leaped  in  with  a  golden  flood,  as  Frederick  Wynian's 
valet  drew  the  curtains  of  his  private  apartment  promptly 
at  nine  o'clock,  as  ordered;  for  these  summer  months  of 
eighteen  hundred  and  seventy-five  were  times  of  a  wild  up- 
heaval in  San  Francisco.  Neither  rich  nor  poor  droned  out 
the  fleeting  moments  of  these  fierce  Bonanza  days.  The 
poor,  desiring  to  abridge  their  poverty,  going  early  afield, 
were  jostled  by  the  rich,  ever  agog  to  become  richer;  for 
the  golden  tide,  the  silver  stream  of  wealth  had  leaped 
down  the  Sierras  from  far  Virginia  City.  Congested  Cal- 
ifornia street  now  eyed  askance  its  budding  rival  Pine 
street,  and  the  haughty  summits  of  huge  redwood  palaces 
began  to  show  their  "fine  sky-lines,"  on  "Nob  Hill." 
Rival  bank  palaces,  great  hotels,  huge  marts  of  business  in 
construction,  littered  the  streets  with  debris.  San  Francis- 
co's hills,  its  outlying  districts,  nay  even  its  ' '  Tar  Flat "  and 
plebeian  district, "  south  of  Market, "  sent  hordes  of  crazed 


ONE  OF  NATURE'S  NOBLEMEN.  133 

men  and  women  pouring  down  daily  to  the  Big  Board,  the 
Little  Board  and  the  countless  brokers'  offices.  A  mad  car- 
nival of  gambling. 

On  this  particular  morning,  Tony  Morani,  the  very  pearl 
of  valets,  had  skimmed  over  all  the  stock  news  before  pre- 
senting a  sheaf  of  dailies  to  the  lordly  occupant  of  the  very 
handsomest  bachelor  apartment  in  the  occidental  city. 
Morani's  glistening  black  eyes  gleamed  with  pride,  as  he 
deftly  arranged  the  morning  coffee  service  of  the  most  suc- 
cessful young  capitalist  of  the  Pacific  Coast.  His  neat  little 
dark  mustache  bristled  attentively  as  Frederick  Wyman, 
with  a  huge  self  satisfaction,  uncoiled  himself  from  the 
meshes  of  a  most  delightful  night's  slumbers.  There  was 
contentment  in  his   first  good-humored  query: 

"  What  sort  of  a  morning,  Tony?  " 

"Splendid,  sir!" 

"Have  my  horses  here  at  four  o'clock  then!  "  pleasantly 
directed  the  youngest  and  far  the  handsomest  of  the  rising 
millionaires.  Morani  bowed  in  silence,  and  awaited  his 
master's  further  orders. 

"Bring  in  the  letters, and  tell  Hopkins  to  come  in  here." 
In  five  minutes  Mr.  Wyman  had  run  over  his  list  of  morn- 
ing engagements,  and  daintily  picked  out  his  private  mail. 

"What  is  there  on  for  me  this  morning?"  briskly  de- 
manded Wyman  of  his  keen -eyed,  pale-faced  young  secre- 
tary. 

"  Mr.  Wilder,  for  orders,  before  the  Board,  sir.  Mr. 
Brown,  as  usual,"  answered  the  neat-framed  lad,  refer- 
ring to  his  memorandum  commonplace  book.  "Captain 
Haley  also  telegraphed  his  arrival  from  the  mine.  Be 
here  at  eleven,  sir." 

"  Ah!  "  briskly  cried  the  millionaire,  "  Let  nothing  in- 
terfere with  Haley.  Be  sure  of  that.  The  other  people 
must  be  put  off.     I  must  see  him," 


134  MISS   DEVEREUX   OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

Hopkins  bowed  and  retired,  .casting  an  envious  glance  at 
the  splendid  pied  a  terre  of  the  man  who  once  ate  from  a 
tin  plate  the  sodden  bacon  and  greasy  beans  prepared  by 
that  frowsy  old  Indian  Ganymede,  "Captain  Johnson." 
"  Autres  temps,  autres  moeurs!  "  A  judicious  liberality  of 
backsheesh  had  enabled  the  old  Piute  brave  to  float  happily 
away  to  Hades  on  a  burning  tide  of  fire-water.  < '  Just  as 
well  to  have  the  old  beast  out  of  the  way,"  said  Fred.  « '  The 
last  of  the  old-timers.  And  it's  cheaper,  too,  than  to  have 
him  knocked  in  the  head."  Millionaire  Frederick  Wyman, 
on  a  visit  of  inspection  to  where  a  forty  stamp  mill  now 
hammered  away  at  the  "  Lone  Star  "  ores,  had  called  up 
Captain  Bob  Haley,  his  superintendent.  "Give  that  old 
Indian,  Cap.  Johnson,  all  the  whisky  he  wants,  and  let 
him  keep  a  den  in  that  old  cabin  down  in  Grizzly  canon," 
sharply  ordered  the  pet  of  Plutus.  "He  used  to  be  my  cook 
in  the  old  times." 

No  memories  of  the  log  cabin  lingered  now  around  this 
Kearney  street  abode,  at  once  an  art  museum,  bachelor 
nest,  hidden  harem,  and  a  crystallization  of  all  the  light- 
ning effects  of  Aladdin's  lamp.  Spacious  waiting  rooms, 
the  apartment  of  gray-haired  old  Cashier  David  Brown, 
whose  pride  was  in  his  faultlessly  kept  books,  and  several 
private  entrances,  gave  a  sober  air  to  the  modesty  of  this 
bonanza  Monte  Cristo.  There  were  always  several  human 
buffers  between  Wyman  and  any  sudden  intrusion.  A 
keen-eyed  fighting  man  lingered  within  call  around  the 
two  or  three  adjacent  blocks,  where  the  sons  of  gold  from 
their  cosy,  hidden  nests  could  dip  one  foot  in  the  rosy 
flood  of  the  sparkling  wavelets  of  the  gay  tide  of  the  demi- 
monde, and  yet  with  the  other,  stand  in  the  ripple  of  the 
silver  sea  of  society — San  Francisco  society. 

Private  telegraph  and  telephone  wires,  "stock  tickers," 
and  a  corps  of  messengers  were  also  adjuncts  of  Frederick 


135 

Wyman's  business  affairs.  A  high  priest  of  the  hours  of 
rosy  dalliance,  Tony  Morani  alone  admitted  those  who  came 
with  a  smile  and  left  with  a  sigh.  But,  one  woman  for  ten 
years  had  boasted  a  private  key  to  the  personal  side  of 
this  Janus-faced  bachelor  haunt  of  luxury.  It  was  the 
imperial  Vinnie  Hinton,  to  whom  all  of  the  golden  circle 
still  bowed.  For,  at  thirty-five,  the  bright  promise  of  her 
youth  "  once  written  on  her  brow,"  had  only  been  re- 
placed by  the  noonday  glow  of  an  Aspasian  beauty.  Her 
sweet  solace  had  cost  several  money  kings  a  world  of  mem- 
ories and  of  sighs. 

One  towering  pinnacle  of  finance,  in  an  incautious  mo- 
ment, said  to  Wyman:  "Fred,  my  boy,  in  all  this  ruck 
and  truck  of  glittering  she-devils  and  male  sharks,  I  fear 
but  two  people.  They  are  Captain  Lees  and  Vinnie 
Hinton.  Both  of  them  know  a  great  deal  too  much." 
The  great  banker,  whose  rocky  nature  always  yielded  the 
cooling  streams  of  Pactolus  at  the  touch  of  Vinnie's  be- 
diamonded  finger,  sighed  heavily,  ' '  They  are  both  un- 
necessary evils."  And  yet,  no  stroke  of  divine  Providence 
cut  off  either  the  great  Detective  Captain  or  the  Queen  of 
Anonymas  in  a  preternatural  overshadowing  of  men  and 
things.  It  was  true  that  Vinnie  Hinton  had  been  once 
gently  reminded  by  Frederick  Wyman,  Esq. ,  not  to  make 
a  too  free  use  of  her  private  key,  yet  that  woman  with 
the  "half  cryin'  brown  eyes"  calmly  pursued  "the  even 
soprano  of  her  way."  She  turned  her  flashing  eyes  on 
him,  and  a  promising  smile  melted  him. 

As  Wyman  threw  down  his  letters  upon  a  table  covered 
with  the  omnium  gatherum  of  a  "  night  off,"  his  eyes  roved 
delightedly  over  the  walls  wherein  gleamed  a  treasure  in 
superb  pictures,  mostly  of  the  slightly  erotic  school. 
Exquisite  bronzes  and  bibelots  in  the  same  lovely  amatory 
style   were   shone   down  on  by  a  richly  frescoed  ceiling 


136  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

where  the  dimpling  glories  of  Vinnie  Hinton's  still  match- 
less physical  beauty  had  earned  the  great  artist,  Cipriani,  a 
five  thousand  dollar  check  from  the  capitalist,,  and  also  a 
diamond  scarf-pin  from  the  delighted  lady  herself.  But, 
Wyman  held  the  mirror  up  to  nature  itself. 

At  a  celebrated  initial  private  view  of  the  fresco,  the 
lady,  with  a  modest  self-depredation,  fixed  her  eyes  mock- 
ingly upon  her  slave  and  master,  Wyman.  "lam  not 
half  as  lovely  as  that!"  she  naively  remarked,  shyly  point- 
ing to  her  counterfeit  presentment,  with  a  five  hundred 
dollar  diamond-mounted  parasol,  a  marvel  of  the  "  White 
House  "  taste. 

"  We  must  follow  nature  in  high  art,  Vinnie,"  gallantly 
remarked  her  "lord  and  master"  of  the  time,  as  he  led 
her  to  breakfast  and  kissed  his  hand  to  her  pictured  beau- 
ties hovering  there  above  them. 

The  pyramid  of  cigars,  gold  notes,  invitations,  opera 
tickets,  blue  poker  chips  and  varied  feminine  reminders 
which  adorned  Wyman's  table  on  this  sunshiny  morning 
oppressed  the  sybarite  miner. 

"  Tony ! "  he  cried,  "  what  is  up  for  to-day?  "  The  gay 
little  Leporello  significantly  waved  a  lace  scarf  caught  up 
from  a  chair. 

"  Breakfast  to-day,  you  promised,  sir."  Wyman' s  face 
instantly  clouded. 

"  All  right!  "  he  said,  after  a  stubborn  pause.  "  Send 
over  to  Marchand's,  and  tell  them  to  get  up  something  nice 
for  one  o'clock  in  my  private  room.  Then,  come  back  and 
fix  me  up.  Stay!  bring  me  a  brandy  and  soda."  And,  as 
the  young  leader  of  San  Francisco's  financial  "  haut  ton" 
lit  his  first  morning  cigar,  he  murmured,  "I  must  not  have 
her  linger  around  here  as  freely,  when  the  big  stock  deals 
come  on.  Why,  in  Heaven's  name,  does  not  Andrew 
Bowen,  Esq. ,  take  her  over  to  Europe  on  his  voyage  to  in- 


137 

dnce  the  benighted  Europeans  to  'participate'  in  the 
glories  of  the  Comstock?" 

As  Wyman  swiftly  assumed  his  normal  static  elegance 
of  appearance,  under  the  deft  fingers  of  Morani,  he  mused 
on  the  strange  upheaval  of  the  last  ten  years.  Time  had 
dealt  very  gently  with  the  borderer.  He  was  unaware  as 
he  glanced  with  a  most  critical  eye  at  his  valet's  work, 
that  he  owed  the  cachet  of  his  correct  form  and  somewhat 
distinguished  appearance  entirely  to  the  voluptuous  Vinnie 
Hinton's  severely  correct  taste.  Through  the  blue  cloud 
of  his  cigar,  the  stern-eyed  capitalist  slowly  revolved  cer- 
tain conundrums  ever  knocking  unanswered  at  the  doors 
of  his  mind.  He  glanced  complacently  at  his  well-groomed 
hands.  The  varying  hues  of  a  matchless  diamond,  once 
the  property  of  a  lovely  and  ill-starred  queen,  was  the  one 
lingering  mark  of  bonanza  advertisement. 

"  You  should  give  me  that  stone,  Fred,"  his  imperious 
Aspasia  had  one  day  remarked,  with  a  just  secret  appraise- 
ment. 

"  So  I  will  some  day,  Vinnie,  when  I  get  tired  of  it.  But 
it  always  makes  me  think  of  the  « Lone  Star.' " 

"  You  may  get  tired  of  me,  too,"  the  reigning  sultana 
softly  said,  with  a  wicked  sweep  of  those  wonderful  brown 
eyes.  The  millionaire  had  only  answered  her  by  a  glance, 
which  brought  the  blood  flaming  to  the  cheeks  of  the  peer- 
less automatic  love  machine,  who  now  shared  the  secrets  of 
the  Kings  of  the  Golden  Table  Round. 

This  little  episode  returned  to  Wyman,  as  his  eye  strayed 
over  a  few  marked  "  Personals,"  the  grateful  incense  of 
San  Francisco  journalism.  His  name  appeared  in  all  the 
papers  gracefully  intertwined  with  the  social,  artistic, 
financial  and  fashion  life  of  the  day. 

4 'Ah,  by  Jove!  I  must  not  forget  Mrs.  Hammond's 
musicale.    That  lovely  dame  is  a  power  in  the  more  rarefied 


138  MISS    DEVEREUX    OP    THE   MARIQUITA. 

circles.  This  new  singer,  she  of  the  faultless  face,  as 
usual  'a  California  diamond,'  and,  of  course,  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond's protegee.  With  a  sardonic  smile,  Wyman  glanced  on 
down  to  a  flaming  article,  sounding  her  own  praises.  ' '  She'll 
be  the  protegee  of  some  other  than  Mrs.  Hammond  very  soon 
if  she  has  any  go  in  her,"  was  Wyman's  inner  thought  as  he 
reflected  upon  the  disappearance  of  various  ' '  bright  partic- 
ular stars,"  whom  he  had  missed  suddenly,  in  the  last 
five  years  of  his  acknowledged  social  prominence.  They  had 
usually  turned  up  all  right  in  the  flesh,  after  describing 
extraordinary  orbits  under  the  hidden  attraction  of  heavy 
bodies,  millionaires,  judiciously  remaining  veiled  from 
public  remark.  The  laws  of  Kepler  were  all  at  fault  in  the 
strange  career  of  these  soft-eyed,  white-breasted  planets  of 
the  West.  It  was  mighty,  conquering  gold,  which  drew 
them  down. 

"So  I  am  really  one  of  Nature's  noblemen,"  sneered 
Wyman,  as  he  cast  the  papers  away.  A  moderate  gift  to 
some  current  local  charity  had  unloosed  the  clarion  notes 
of  the  "San  Francisco  Bugle,"  a  journal  of  the  times, 
which  did  much  energetic  blowing,  in  varied  keys,  and 
sounded  its  suggested  notes,  high  over  the  din  of  even 
these  roaring  Bonanza  days. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  that  I  am  all  that,  if  they  say  so," 
grinned  Wyman,  * '  and,  the  social  reporter  will  be  clamor- 
ing here  soon  for  a  check,  a  loan,  or  a  little  favor,  surely 
before  to-morrow  morning."  A  sudden  spasm  of  inquiry 
seized  the  prosperous  scoundrel,  for  his  uneasy  thoughts 
of  Vinnie,  the  deliciously  unreliable,  had  brought  back 
memories  of  the  still  uncompleted  title  to  the  "Lone  Star." 

"I  must  go  to  work  and  trace  out  that  widowed  woman's 
history.  It  is  safe  enough  now.  Ten  years  have  passed 
since  she  was  carted  to  the  City  Hospital  from  that  little 
den,   and  after  all  she  does  not  count  for  much.     But,  the 


139 

girl,  the  girl!  where  is  she?  "  Wyman  rose  and  paced  the 
room  quickly,  as  he  nervously  glanced  at  his  watch.  He 
was  now  awaiting  his  broker,  his  man  of  figures,  and  that 
hawk-eyed  leader  of  men,  "Captain  Bob  Haley." 

"  This  old  theater  fellow, McCabe,  who  sheltered  that  girl, 
is  dead  and  gone,  too.  He  died  and  left  no  sign.  And,  the 
once  famous  Bella  Union  is  now  merely  a  catch-all  for 
tramps,  sailors  and  hoodlums.  If  I  only  dared  to  trust  to 
any  one.  But,"  and  Wyman  anathematized  the  whole 
social  fabric,  '  *  this  town  is  a  mad  whirlpool  of  all  the  float- 
ing scum  of  the  world.  Hyena  men,  harpy  women,  the 
refuse  of  the  Avar,  broken  down  eastern  men,  European  ad- 
venturers, the  clouded  of  two  hemispheres,  all  crowd  in 
here,  to  dabble  their  itching  fingers  in  the  golden  stream. 
If  I  made  any  move,  I  would  be  at  once  blackmailed  right 
up  to  the  limit.  Lawyers,  officials,  all  around  me,  are 
hollow  friends  and,  perhaps,  invisible  foes.  And  the 
journals,  if  they  would  ever  get  a  hint  of  any  weakness 
in  the  chain  which  hands  down  the  ownership  of  the  old 
'Mariquita,'  they,  too,  would  bleed  me  to  the  last  dollar. 

"Whom  have  I  now  to  fear?  "  the  "nobleman  of  Na- 
ture" asked  himself.  "There's  Hooper  with  all  the 
hundreds  of  thousands  which  he  has  easily  gained  in 
stocks  or  as  'running  mate' for  Vinnie,  he  has  yet  gambled 
the  whole  away.  He  has  no  art  to  keep,  to  have  and  to 
hold.  Some  day  he  will  surely  make  an  awful  break,  of 
some  startling  character.  And,  will  Vinnie  then  throw  him 
over?  She  is  a  strange,  strange,  compound,"  the  newly 
fledged  aristocrat  muttered.  "  The  loosely  worn  chain  of 
old  habit  still  binds  her  to  Jim  Hooper.  Some  memory  of 
the  past  years.  What  an  unfathomed  devil  she  is!  But,  no 
one  can  ever  say  she  has  twisted  the  reins  of  her  chariot, 
reckless  as  she  has  been.  No  one  dares  to  hint  that  she  has 
ever  opened  a  leaf  of  her  many-paged  Book  of  Life,  to  the 


140  MISS    DEVERETXX  OF   THE  MARIQUITA. 

stranger  eye.  By  God!  Vinnie  is  game."  Wyman's  eye 
rested  upon  her  pictured  glories  of  matchless  bodily 
womanhood  gleaming  there  above  him.  "  I  believe  that 
if  she  really  loved  a  man,  she  would  be  dead  game  to  the 
last,  a  « stayer '  to  the  very  bitter  end.  There's  Andy 
Bowen;  only  think  of  that  big  loaf  er,  too,  blossoming  into  a 
millionaire.  He  has  offered  to  roll  her  in  diamonds.  And 
yet,  she  only  laughs  at  him.  These  three  people  are  the 
only  dangerous  ones  around  me.  I  cannot  safely  get  any 
of  them  out  of  the  way." 

Wyman  threw  himself  in  a  chair.  A  sudden  timorous 
spasm  seized  upon  him.  He  had  so  much  to  lose  now! 
Though  his  face  gleamed  out  in  the  well-kept  good  looks 
of  prosperity,  though  his  eye  settled  with  conscious  power 
on  his  inferiors,  though  money  arrogance  had  curdled  his 
egoism  and  stiffened  his  fluttering  nerves,  he  was  still  a 
coward  at  heart.  His  teeth  chattered  as  he  thought,  "If 
Jimmy  Hooper  has  ever  given  away  his  old  secrets,  that 
old  Truckee  transaction,  to  Vinnie,  then,  she  is  the  only 
one  to  fear;  for  some  day,  he  may  have  to  'skip'  out 
between  two  days,  or  else  kill  himself,  if  he's  drunk  enough 
to  be  reckless.  I  could  get  him  easily  '  done  up  '  at  any 
rate.  Andy  Bowen,  rough  as  he  is,  has  a  very  long  busi- 
ness head,  and  he  never  would,  never  dare  to  rip  up  the 
whole  details  of  our  '  group  of  mines.'  Besides,  he  has 
sensibly  saved  his  money.  I  could  consolidate  with  him, 
'pool  issues'  with  good  old  Andy,  easily;  but,  Vinnie 
has  the  heart  of  a  lion  in  that  Venus-moulded,  devil-in- 
spired body  of  hers.  With  all  that,  her  own  coqI,  trained 
nerve  never  deserts  her  a  moment.  What  a  woman  she 
would  have  been  if  she  were  only  'straight.'  " 

Mr.  Wyman,  sailing  down  the  stream  of  his  happiest 
years,  had  gained  only  a  varied  experience  in  much 
tyrannic    voluptuous    enjoyment,  gold   suggested.       His 


141 

knowledge  of  women  was  only  of  the  rosy  fighters  under 
the  banner  of  Venus  Victrix,  or  their  feeble  competitors, 
the  prowling,  overdressed  social  hypocrites  of  the  doubt- 
fully "  respectable  circles."  Philosophy  had  poured  forth 
no  silver  stream  of  wisdom  for  him  yet.  He  reflected  not 
that  in  the  confining  circle  of  humble  duties,  or  the  honest 
obscurity  of  a  modest  home,  the  heralded  charms  of 
voluptuous  Vinnie  would  have  been  lost  to  the  glittering 
world  she  knew.  She  had  wisely  taken  her  magnetic 
charms  to  the  glaring  display  of  their  very  best  market, 
the  Bonanza  circles  of  San  Francisco. 

Wyman  was  not  aware  that  opportunity  makes  Aspasias, 
that  many  a  fair,  willing  Helen  of  Troy  waits  with  all  her 
glowing  charms  ready,  only  tied  down  by  a  humdrum  life, 
and  watches  for  the  all-conquering  Paris;  that  hordes 
of  men,  possibly  exemplars  of  Menelaus,  never  dream  of 
the  unfolded  passion  daily  folded  in  their  arms,  till  oc- 
casion or  disaster  tears  away  the  veil  and  shows  the  pa- 
tient Griselda,  her  life  blood  bounding  in  repression,  to  be 
only  a  Bianca  Capello  "  in  futuro."  But,  these  dreams  do 
come  even  to  the  chaste  in  envious  moments! 

Wyman  was  most  coldly  practical  in  money  matters. 
It  was  his  one  sacred  obligation,  the  care  of  the  golden 
stream  now  running  out  of  the  forgotten  graves  of  luck- 
less Devereux,  and  the  ill-starred  Berard,  he  of  the  ready 
revolver.  He  was  a  model  ' '  business  man, "  and  also  one  of 
Nature's  noblemen.  "I  will  keep  on  the  right  side  of 
Vinnie,"   he   decided,  as  a   knock  sounded  at  the  door. 

"She  has  probably  wormed  this  secret  of  the  Truckee 
affair  out  of  Hooper.  If  she  were,  however,  to  take  some 
cool  lawyer  into  the  magic  circle  i  of  her  adorers, '  then 
she  would  be  most  dangerous.  I  must  keep  her  out  of 
Andy  Bo  wen's  clutches.  Bah?  She  would  not  even  be 
seen  on    the   street  with  him. "     The  name  of    the   gray- 


142  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

haired  old  Satan  who  was  the  great  ruling  * '  Bank's " 
lawyer  at  Virginia  City,  flashed  over  Wy man's  quick 
mind. 

"No!  He's  too  old,  too  worn  and  faded  to  be 
Vinnie's  lover,  in  fact  he  is  only  a  '  legal  adviser '  to 
watch  over  her  relations  with  her  still  princely  exploiter." 
And  Wyman  then  murmured  the  name  of  a  king  of 
finance  whom  even  he  feared,  rich  as  he  was  now,  in  the 
safe  retirement  of  his  harem  castle.  "  Some  outside  chap, 
some  sharp  fellow  who  had  a  grudge  against  me,  such  as  a 
hostile  lawyer,  might  aid  Vinnie  to  pull  me  down.  So 
Madame  Graceful  Graceless,  you  shall  rule  over  me  yet,  in 
a   way.     But,    I'll  tie  you  down  with  rosy   chains." 

Wyman  suddenly  remembered  one  day,  when  passion  still 
gave  its  thrilling  zest  to  their  real  love,  the  day  of  a  sharp 
quick  quarrel,  when  the  angry  Vinnie,  glaring  through  her 
veiled  lashes,  transfixed  him  as  she  said,  "I  am  the  one 
woman  you  should  never,  never  quarrel  with.  Don't  for- 
get it,  Fred."  "By  Jove,"  he  cried,  "that's  her  danger- 
ous secret."  And,  so  dismissing  Venus  to  her  rosy  clouds, 
he  now  invoked  Minerva,  as  he  sharply  cried,  "Come in!" 
It  was  the  hour  for  the  daily  reports. 

David  Brown's  sixty  years  sat  lightly  on  him  as  he 
bowed,  pen  behind  ear,  and  then  silently  handed  Frederick 
Wyman  a  confidential  blotter.  The  gray  old  scribe's  face 
was  as  impassive  as  stone,  while  Wyman  pored  over  the  con- 
solidated figures  of  the  day  before,  and  then  glanced  at  a 
financial  schedule  for  the  ebbing  and  flowing  of  ten  hours 
of  the  fierce  tiger  life  of  the  stock  market.  Wyman,  seated 
at  his  table,  sat  with  his  rapid  eye,  flitting  over  the  figures 
which  were  the  trusty  soldiers  he  daily  fought  his  battles 
with.  Every  nerve  thrilling  with  keen  interest,  he  was 
now  another  man  in  appearance.  Napoleon  poring  over 
the  maps  of  Italy,  and  dreaming  of  Wurmser's  ominously 


143 

numerous  host,  was  no  more  alert  than  this  Ishmaelite 
financier.  For,  he  played  his  lone  hand  against  all  the 
world. 

"  Bring  me  out  the  stock  ledger,  David,"  he  said  in  a 
low  voice,  his  face  growing  grave. 

"I  shall  want  some  checks  signed  also,  sir,"  the  old 
accountant  quietly  interpolated. 

"  How  many?  "  queried  Wyman. 

"Well,  about  fifty.  It  looks  to  be  a  very  lively  day 
down  town,"  said  the  bookkeeper. 

Wyman's  pen  was  flying  along  from  check  to  check 
on  old  Brown's  return.  His  face  was  working  under  a 
powerful  internal  feeling  as  he  sharply  closed  the  great 
Russia-bound  check  book.  For  fifteen  minutes,  the  chief's 
pencil  dashed  off,  note  after  note,  as  he  turned  the  leaves 
of  the  stock  ledger  and  gazed  on  the  schedule   of  the  day. 

It  did  not  seem  strange  to  the  one  time  tenant  of  the 
squalid  cabin  in  Grizzly  Canon, that  his  own  daily  ex- 
changes were  now  sometimes  half  a  million  dollars.  For, 
though  the  extensive  speculations  of  the  Hooper,  Bowen 
&  Co.  group  of  mines  were  all  handled  in  the  Exchange 
by  the  reckless  and  world-weary  Hooper  himself,  the  last 
survivor  of  the  ' '  Mariquita  "  embryo,  transacted  a  huge 
private  business.  A  series  of  cross-fire  gambling  opera- 
tions had  stamped  Wyman  as  one  of  the  very  coolest  heads 
in  the  human  maelstrom,  whose  center  was  now  at  Virginia 
City. 

Few  knew  that  Horace  Wilder,  the  dashing  broker,  he 
of  the  red  rose  and  jaunty  attire,  had  a  private  entrance 
to  Wyman's  rooms  on  Kearney  street,  neatly  effected  by 
cutting  into  the  walls  of  adjoining  houses;  that,  day  by 
day,  night  by  night,  the  two  men  there  concerted  wild,  sky- 
rocket stock  operations,  to  the  great  amazement  of  the 
ungodly;   and,    that    the    velvet-voiced     Vinnie   Hinton 


144  MISS   DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MAE1QUITA. 

brought  a  dashing  life,  an  amazing  nerve  and  considerable 
picturesque  moral  obliquity  into  these  hidden  councils. 
She  had  the  inner  voice  of  the  ruling  kings.  She  raised  a 
warning  finger  when  Wynian  (left  alone)  would  have  run 
on  the  reefs  of  Ruin.  Thankful  for  her  guidance,  he 
never  questioned  her  as  to  the  details  of  her  prophetic 
wisdom;  for  he  knew  that  ten  years  of  a  secret  intrigue, 
had  only  deepened  her  hold  on  the  great  Colossus,  who 
often  stole  a  half  hour  to  linger  in  the  dim  retreat  on 
Sacramento  street,  where  so  many  bright,  passion-gleam- 
ing eyes  had  gazed  on  the  splendors  of  that  unique  retreat. 
There  were  reigning  kings  in  far  Europe,  who  had  never 
commanded  the  money  luxury  which  reigned  in  .that 
private  sanctum  a  Finconnu. 

In  later  days,  when  the  bare  floors  echoed  back  only  the 
foot  of  the  curious  stranger,  some  mighty  fascination  yet 
lingered  in  those  vacant  halls,  where  the  fight  for  millions 
had  been  carried  on  to  the  death,  where  a  nation's  ransom 
had  been  struggled  for,  where  the  concealed  filaments 
of  deadly  intrigues  knotted  together  the  bright-browed 
daughters  of  fashion,  who  stole  in  on  the  sly,  and  the 
panther-footed  lost  ones,  who  boldly  ranged  in  these  royal 
shades.  The  shadow  of  past  smiles,  the  ghosts  of  consent- 
ing sighs,  the  reflections  of  vanished  forms,  the  memory- 
hoarded  whispers  of  the  beautiful,  the  wails  of  the  betrayed, 
linger  yet  around  the  haunted  place  where  every  shadow 
to-day,  has  its  bewitching  picture  of  the  dead  and  gone  past, 
to  throw  "  floating  on  the  floor,"  in  those  sad  days  of 
death,  silence  and  ruin.  For  there,  the  last  rose  has  scat- 
tered its  lifeless  leaves,  the  wine  cup  will  never  again  ring 
its  crystal  brim  to  a  happy  lover's  glass,  the  loves  and 
laughter  of  other  days  have  vanished  forever,  with  the 
mighty  dead.  Of  all  the  mad  passion  play  of  the  past,  in 
this  star  chamber,  nothing  will  ever  be  known :  for  the  un- 


ONE  OF  NATURE'S  NOBLEMEN.  145 

broken  silence  of  oblivion  has  wrapped  these  wild  days, 
love-haunted,  sin-stained,  with  the  soft  pall  of  fear,  of 
forgetf ulness  and  of  woman's  Delilah  dissimulation.  But, 
there's  not  a  single  soul,  sold  to  sorrow  and  shame,  there's 
not  an  easy  crime  led  on  by  ringing  gold  or  sparkling 
gems,  there's  not  a  mad  wine-drenched  hour  of  wicked- 
ness, which  ever  added  to  the  grim  renown  of  these  beauti- 
ful halls  of  Eblis,  which  has  not  been  paid  for  to  the  utter- 
most, in  the  blood  and  tears  of  the  innocent.  It  is  ever 
so! 

There  was  a  hard  gleam  on  Wyman's  face  as  he  lifted 
his  head  and  faced  the  silver-haired  Brown.  The  situation 
of  the  day  was  an  ugly  one,  and  Frederick  Wyman  sprang 
angrily  to  his  feet,  when  the  scribe,  in  his  passionless  voice 
intoned:  "A  letter  from  the  bank.  They  must  have 
more  collateral  to-day  on  our  overdraft  amount." 

"  What  was  the  limit  set?"  sharply  demanded  Wyman, 
though  he  too  well  knew  it.       ♦ 

"Four  hundred  thousand,"  simply  answered  the  old 
man,  "and,  we  are  at  the  last  check,  within  thirty  thou- 
sand of  it." 

"All  right,"  calmly  answered  his  chief.  "Come  back 
here  at  two  o'clock.  I  will  cut  it  down  a  hundred  thou- 
sand.    You  can  tell  the  cashier  so.     Will  that  do?" 

"  Certainly,"  rejoined  Brown,  as  he  went  away,  as  un- 
concerned, as  if  to  his  own  modest  morning  marketing. 
His  brow  was  unruffled,  his  heart  light,  for  he  only  played 
this  daily  game  for  fool's  gold,  at  second  hand,  and  with 
no  added  heart  beat,  as  stocks  shot  up  and  down. 

Frederick  Wyman  paced  the  floor  of  his  room  and  only 
nodded  a  good  morning  to  his  private  broker,  as  Horace 
Wilder  entered  with  the  ambrosial  freshness  of  the  morn- 
ing on  his  handsome  face.  It  was  the  "  pious  and  logical " 
result  of  a  night  at  high  "poker,"  with  Fortune  smiling. 


146  MISS    DEVEKEUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

Certain  "stars,"  who  had  "  shot  madly  from  their 
spheres,"  also  smiled  upon  the  struggle  where  a  "wine 
supper, "  awaited  the  truce  until  the  next  seance.  But,  a 
morning  drive,  a  dip  in  the  surf,  and  an  absinthe-dashed 
cocktail  had  brought  up  "Wonderful  Wilder"  to  his 
regular  form.  He  was  gaily  living  along  on  the  golden 
life  capital  of  his  matchless  constitution.  The  Bank  of 
Youth  still  honored  his  unlimited  drafts.  "You  see, 
boys,"  he  cried,  "  I  do  not  care  to  linger  on  in  this  vale 
of  tears  'as  an  old  chromo,'  to  'lag  superfluous'  on  this 
gay  and  festive  scene.  I  wish  to  go  'all  at  once'  when  I 
go,  and  where  to?  Ah!  I  give  it  up."  The  light-hearted 
broker  had  truly  described  himself,  as  "  working  the  game 
of  Life  for  all  it  was  worth." 

"I  must  put  up  some  of  my  U.  S.  bonds,"  mused 
Wyman,  thinking  secretly  of  his  narrowed  "overdraft" 
at  the  tyrannical  bank.  He  had  long  since  laid  away 
a  secret  safety  hoard,  the  untouchable,  his  Tenth  Le- 
gion, and,  for  the  first  time  in. his  broadening  schemes, 
that  cash  reserve  was  imperiled. 

"I  have  let  too  much  of  the  'Lone  Star'  stock  drift 
away  out  on  the  market,"  thought  Wyman.  "I  have 
been  putting  far  too  many  irons  in  the  fire.  I  must  make 
a  break,  a  big  break  in  Lone  Star,  and  then,  throw  it  down 
with  a  clatter.  I  can  gather  in  about  thirty  thousand 
shares,  if  I  am  successful,  and  then  up  she  goes  again. 
That  will  hold  this  bank-  collateral  all  right,  and  I  will 
never  go  so  near  to  my  limit  again.  But  how?  Dare  I 
trust  this  mad  fellow?.  For  all  I  know,  if  he  thought 
that  I  was  weak,  he  might  join  Hooper  and  Bowen, and  then 
sweep  me  out  of  the  whole  line.  By  Jove!  Vinnie,  too, 
may  have  such  an  idea.  I'll  sound  her  at  breakfast.  I 
must  sweeten  on  her."  He  smiled  with  th'e  air  of  a  con- 
quering hero.  He  had  won  that  soft  victory  many,  many 
times. 


ONE  OF  NATUKE's  NOBLEMEN.  147 

1 1  Well,  Horace.  If  you  have  now  done  looking  at  that 
passing  woman,"  cheerfully  broke  out  Wyman,  "  you  can 
tell  me  how  things  head  to-day." 

'  «  I  don't  like  what  the  ten-dollar-a-week  reporters  call 
the  <  financial  outlook '  "murmured  the  gay  Wilder, lightly, 
as  he  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to  share  Wyman's 
peerless  cognac.  "The  truth  is,  Fred,"  and  Wyman  tried 
to  look  serious,  "Giants  don't  stay  in  the  cast,  as  giants  to 
eternity,  in  this  stock  market  here.  New  currents,  new 
ideas,  turn  up  strangely.  New  schemes,  new  lies,  new 
panics,  new  plots,  new  swindles,  all  these  convulse  and  dis- 
tort. By  gad,  sir!"  he  confidently  exclaimed,  as  he  care- 
fully trimmed  a  cigar,"  I  would  as  soon  take  a  raw  clerk's 
prophecy  to-day,  as  the  united  voice  of  any  twenty  of  the 
oldest  brokers.  I've  been  in  this  hubbub  from  the  very 
first.  I  cannot  travel  myself  underground — not  yet — and 
I  thus  cannot  give  you  the  latest  news  from  the  center  of 
the  earth,  but  there  is  surely  a  great  war  of  millionaires  in 
prospect  here  in  this  confused  money  field.  I  would  as 
soon  take  any  one  of  a  half  a  dozen  of  the  leading  claims 
at  random  as  the  mine  of  the  future  anywhere  along  Mount 
Davidson.  I  would  as  soon  draw  lots  as  to  dare  to 
prophesy,  whether  Ralston,  Keene,  Hay  ward,  Sharon,  Bald- 
win, Hobart,  Latham,  the  Cooks,  Jones,  Stewart,  or  Flood, 
O'Brien  &  Co. ,  will  lead  in  this  endless  race  across  un- 
known country,  to  a  nameless  goal.  All  I  can  tell  you  is, 
that  most  of  them  will  never  leave  the  game  with  a  dollar! 
Who  will  be  first,  who  will  be  last,  no  one  to-day  knows! 
But,  it's  the  old  thing  with  the  Derby.  I  don't  care  how 
many  are  in  the  field,  there's  only  one  winner." 

Horace  Wilder  closely  examined  Frederick  Wyman's 
galaxy  of  "  personally  signed  "  photographs  of  contempo- 
rary "  living  pictures,"  and  then  carelessly  answered  his 
friend's  question,  as  Wyman  anxiously  demanded: 


148  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"Do  you  look  for  any  particular  great  struggle  or 
break-up  very  soon?  " 

"Oh,  anything  at  any  time.  Everything  goes  in  San 
Francisco's  money  market.  I  just  dropped  in  for  your  or- 
ders on  'Lone  Star.'  " 

"Hold  it  stiff  at  forty  dollars.  Watch  it  carefully. 
Take  in  all  that  is  offered,  and  keep  it  strong.  I'll  be  here 
till  four  o'clock,  within  reach,"  said  Wyman,  with  a  fur- 
tive smile  cast  toward  the  low,  two-storied  shanty  where 
Marchand's  offered  the  best  cuisine, the  choicest  wines,  and 
the  very  worst  company,  in  all  San  Francisco.  There  the 
bright-eyed  Free  Lances  of  Folly  bloomed  perennial  in  the 
abandon  of  their  characterless  Nirvana. 

"All  right,  old  man,"  cheerfully  replied  Wilder.  "See 
you  at  the  Cliff  this  evening.     Any  news  with  you?" 

"Yes,  Haley  is  here,  and  I  am  going  to  drive  him  out. 
I  may  go  up  to  Virginia  for  a  couple  of  weeks.  He  wants 
me  to  look  the  mine  over. " 

With  a  nod,  Horace  Wilder  sauntered  away  to  join  in 
the  coming  devil's  scramble  of  the  morning's  call.  "  Wy- 
man has  something  on  his  mind, I  fancy,"  mused  the  devil- 
may-care  broker,  as  he  revolved  certain  little  afternoon  and 
evening  plans,  intimately  connected  with  the  endless 
deviltries  of  his  reckless  private  life.  He  had  covered 
the  two  short  blocks  to  his  office,  before  his  day  was  ar- 
ranged, so  as  to  quietly  and  expeditiously  provide  for  the 
shattering  of  several  of  the  commandments,  which  were, 
and  are,  a  dead  letter  as  far  as  San  Francisco  is  concerned. 
A  climatic  effect,  probably! 

As  Wyman  prepared  to  go  on  his  regular  morning  parade 
at  the  clubs  he  now  only  awaited  his  mine  foreman,  Haley. 
"I  will  drive  Bob  down  on  the  ocean  beach,"  mused  the 
annoyed  operator.  "  It's  the  only  place  for  a  safe  inter- 
view within  fifty  miles.    There,  by  Jove!    I  can  head  them 


149 


all  off — women,  reporters,  gossips,  stock  spies,  and  the 
whole  gang  of  busybodies." 

Frederick,  the  faultless,  smiled  at  himself  as  he  ap- 
proved the  careful  finishing  work  of  Vinnie  Hinton's 
golden  years  of  friendly  endeavor.  His  spirits  rose  as  he 
thought  of  his  matchless  trotters,  of  the  eight  mile 
curve  of  that  grand  surf -washed  beach,  sweeping,  brown 
and  glistening,  in  the  afternoon  sun,  from  the  "Cliff," 
down  to  far  Point  Lobos.  A  southerner  in  his  love  of 
horses,  he  delighted  to  speed  along  there,  his  cheek  fresh- 
ened with  the  crisp  salt  breeze,  blown  shoreward  from  the 
sparkling  sea  which  broke  on  no  shore  nearer  than  the  far 
islands  of  Japan.  The  great  purpled  cliffs  above  the 
Golden  Gate  gave  the  scene  all  the  witchery  of  a  fitting 
background,  with  far  Tamalpais  and  snow-capped  Monte 
Diablo,  uplifted  high  above  him  in  the  clear  California 
skies. 

The  "show-up"  at  the  Cliff  pleased  his  egoistic  vanity, 
for  crowds  now  craned  their  necks  to  win  the  honor  of  a 
nod  of  recognition  from  Frederick  Wyman,  "one  of 
Nature's  noblemen."  In  the  slower  "park parade,"  many 
a  bright  eye  followed  longingly  the  < '  successful  man.  "  In 
those  gilded  circles  which  constituted  "  High  Society," 
separated  by  an  "elastic  band,  "alas!  too  easily  crossed  from 
the  "unclassed,"  Wyman  was  even  now  regarded  as  the 
most  eligible   "parti"   of  monied  society. 

His  future  marriage  strangely  interested  scores  of  full  bos- 
omed dowagers,  whose  falcon-eyed  daughters,  light  of  foot, 
and  hard  of  heart,  yearned  to  wear  the  ' '  diamond  neck- 
lace," which  was  supposed  to  be  awaiting  some  growing 
rosebud  of  these  ozone-laden  western  skies.  « <  When  I 
marry,"  had  been  the  indefinite  boundary  of  many  a  sly 
plan  of  Wyman's,  but  he  had  also  a  certain  cynical  skepti- 
cism as  to  the  "staying  power"  of  the  beautiful  California 


150  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

girls,  in  whose  thrilled  veins  an  electric  lava  fluid  seemed 
to  bound ;  far  quicker  in  its  pulsing  throbs  than  the  more 
regulated  blood  of  the  paler  eastern  roses. 

Several  match-making  mammas  would  have  been  greatly 
disheartened  if  they  could  have  listened  to  Wyman's  half 
sneer:  "I  think  that  I  will  stand  back,  and  let  other  men 
take  the  chances  on  these  fiery  young  Nourmahals."  For 
Mr.  Frederick  Wyman's  self-allotted  path  onward  and 
upward,  led  him  far  away  out  over  the  summits  of  the 
Sierras,  to  the  broader  circles  and  higher  glories  of  Euro- 
pean society. 

Physically  and  personally  luxurious,  sowing  broadcast 
his  widely-spread  crop  of  wild  oats,  Wyman  had  easily 
acquired  the  practical  dexterity  of  the  western  man  in  his 
adaptation  to  varied  social  circles,  not  frequently  inter- 
secting. His  proud  name  shone  in  the  lists  of  the  varied 
clubs  of  San  Francisco.  He  showed  a  gilded  liberality 
in  the  affected  charities  of  fashion,  a  judiciously  regulated 
social  advertising  system  was  his,  and  a  confidential 
intimacy  with  various  "  society  leaders  "  of  Eve's  trustful 
sex,  who  "dabbled  in  stocks,"  had  finally  taught  him  the 
hornbook  of  ' «  high  life. "  On  this  particular  morning, 
as  at  all  important  business  junctures,  he  designed  care- 
fully displaying  himself  as  a  man  of  leisure  at  the  various 
places,  where  the  men  "  of  his  order"  sheltered  themselves 
from  the  usefully  vulgar,  by  the  "dead  line"  of  club 
membership. 

He  had  long  nourished  a  secret  plan,  after  skimming 
the  financial  cream  to  the  last  drop,'  having  acquired 
the  surface  hall-mark  of  the  gentleman,  to  seek  a 
broader  field  of  fashion  far  beyond  the  green  Atlantic; 
but,  on  this  particular  morning,  he  felt  again  the  truth  of 
his  haunting  fears.  "  I  must  never  leave  the  coast  till 
Hooper,  my  bright-eyed  friend  Vinnie,  and  Andy  Bowen 


ONE    OF    NATURE'S    NOBLEMEN.  151 

are  all  powerless  to  meddle  with  the  'Lone  Star,'  and  drag 
out  the  weakness  of  the  Mariquita  title."  And  so, raising 
and  lowering  the  stock,  keeping  control  of  the  directory, 
enjoying  its  revenues,  by  skilled  manipulation  of  the  ac- 
counts and  monthly  yields,  he  stood  steadily  on,  in  his 
successful  course.  ' '  When  the  public  will  contribute  no 
more  by  general  operations,  I  will  then  personally  run  it 
as  an  investment  of  my  own."  Led  into  other  and  out- 
side speculations  himself,  Wyman  felt  the  necessity  of 
some  brilliant  coup,  which  would  refill  his  coin  coffers.  "  I 
need  more  cash  reserve,"  he  muttered,  "and  I  must  make 
a  big  turn." 

"Ah!  Captain  Bob!  Here  you  are,"  cheerily  remarked 
the  great  man,  as  a  square-shouldered,  lean-faced  miner  of 
forty  briskly  entered  the  room.  "  Just  waiting  for  you. 
I  want  to  have  a  long  talk  with  you  to-day.  Drive  out 
with  me  at  four,  this  afternoon.  We'll  go  over  everything, 
and  then,  we  can  have  a  quiet  dinner  at  the  Cliff." 

The  foreman  nodded  acquiescence,  and  stood  facing  his 
employer  with  both  hands  lightly  dropped  in  the  pockets 
of  his  sack  coat.  Wiry  and  neat,  brown  skinned,  with  a 
spare  wolfish  mustache,  the  cold,  gray  eye  of  ' '  Captain 
Bob  "  was  resolute  and  unflinching  as  he  calmly  said: 

"  I  would  have  telegraphed  you,  but,  on  second  thoughts, 
I  came  down  myself.-  You  are  going  to  have  some  trouble 
about  the  <  Lone  Star '  stock,  and  I  wanted  to  warn  you 
myself.  You  can't  trust  to  our  ciphers,  we  are  all  bought 
and  sold." 

"Tell  me  now,  right  off.  Sit  down  here!"  cried 
Wyman,  forgetting  the  man  of  fashion,  in  the  cool,  self- 
defensive  speculator. 

Over  a  cigar  and  a  glass,  Captain  Bob  Haley, 
awkwardly  stroking  the  words  out  of  the  knees  of  his 
pepper-and-salt   colored  trousers,  delivered  himself  oracu- 


152  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

larly.  A  southwestern  man  of  magnetic  nerve,  Bob  Haley- 
could  handle,  with  a  single  look,  the  most  turbulent  miner. 
His  hands  had  an  ugly  fashion  of  flashing  two  self-cocking 
revolvers  out  of  those  pockets,  and,  his  cold  nerve 
was  proverbial.  To  an  unbroken  word,  a  perfect,  even- 
handed  justice,  and  a  personal  liberality  never  denied,  he 
added  all  the  watchful  wisdom  of  years  of  experience  and 
also  the  golden  charm  of  few  words.  Active,  alert,  ener- 
getic, and  ' '  square  ' '  on  every  issue,  Haley's  pre-eminence 
among  mining  foremen,  dated  from  the  day  when,  single- 
handed,  at  the  "Golden  Eagle"  he  defended  the  com- 
pany's bullion  storehouse  against  the  sudden  dash  of  a 
dozen  desperate  outlaws.  When  the  quick  flashes  of  a 
Winchester  rifle  had  rung  out  the  doom  of  three  of  their 
number,  as  they  vainly  tried  to  storm  the  little  stone  house, 
a  sick  captive  miner,  tied  to  a  tree,  called  out  with  pardon- 
able pride:  "You'll  never  get  in  there.  Bob  Haley's  in- 
side with  a  spare  box  of  cartridges!  "  And  so, the  siege  was 
incontinently  raised. 

It  was  this  same  cool  human  machine  who  now  said: 
< '  You  have  an  eager  enemy  on  your  trail.  Some  one  has 
been  quietly  buying  in  all  the  loose  stock  of  the  '  Lone  Star ' 
to  be  found  in  Nevada,  and  sending  it  down  here.  I  can't 
find  who  is  behind  it,  but,  there's  an  unlimited  order  to 
buy,  and  the  stock  is  all  quickly  shipped  down  here.  I've 
got  a  friend  or  two  in  the  express  office,  and  I  am  always 
posted.  Now,  you  are  just  within  three  months  of  your 
annual  election.  The  mine's  all  right,  still,  somebody  is 
going  back  on  you.  Look  out  for  yourself!  "  Wyman 
sat  as  if  stunned.  His  ashen  face  did  not  escape  the  keen 
eye  of  Bob  Haley. 

When  the  startled  capitalist  found  words,  he  said  slowly  : 
"Haley,  I  want  you  to  keep  close  here  to-day,  in  my  rooms, 
till  I   come  back.     Tony  will  attend  to  all  your  wants. 


ONE  OF  NATURE'S  NOBLEMEN.  153 

Go  up  to-morrow,  home  to  Virginia,  and  don't  you  let  one 
single  human  being  enter  that  mine  unless  he  has  a  private 
signal  which  I  will  give  to  you.  No!  It  isn't  Hooper  or 
Andy  Bowen,"  he  flashed  out,  in  answer  to  an  inquiring 
glance.  "  They  are  both  sound  on  the  goose.  It's  some 
rank  outsider.  Now  make  yourself  at  home.  I'll  throw 
out  my  dragnet,  and  I'll  soon  catch  this  strange  shark.  By 
Heavens!  I'll  knife  him,  too  when  I  have  him  in  the  net!  " 
And  then  his  blood  surged  away  from  his  heart. 

"Could  Vinnie  Hinton  have  played  him  here  the  double 
cross?  "  He  caught  his  breath.  She  could  know  nothing 
•of  his  current  affairs.  Neither  Bacchus  nor  Venus  had 
ever  loosened  the  seal  of  his  egoism.  No  man  knew  of  his 
private  finances,  for,  unknown  to  even  Brown,  Wynian  had 
his  secret  deposit  of  United  States  Bonds,  reserve  moneys 
at  Virginia  City,  and  also,  certain  eastern  ground-anchors 
carefully  laid  down.  A  running  deposit  account  with 
Wilder  kept  that  gay  youth  in  his  power  as  a  "silent 
partner,"  and  the  funds  in  the  Hooper,  Bowen  &  Co., 
combination,  were  all  that  Vinnie  could  trace,  even  with 
the  utmost  duplicity.  As  to  peeping  at  his  books  or  even 
a  paper,  all  the  doors  leading  to  the  business  department 
of  his  seraglio  office,  had  heavy  spring  locks  on  the  other 
side,  and  also  secretly-placed  bolts.  Madame  Vinnie,  she 
of  the  "  half-cryin'  brown  eyes,"  could  only  use  her  own 
golden  key  to  enter  the  "sunny  side,"  the  social  "spider 
parlor,"  of  that  Kearney  street  nest  whose  glories  were  now 
too  well  known  to  many  pairs  of  bright  eyes.  "  Besides," 
murmured  Wyman,  ' '  she  is  royal  even  in  her  wholesome 
iniquity,  which  now  fits  her  loosely  like  an  easy  glove. 
No!  Vinnie  has  no  present  cause  for  war  a  l'outrance.  It 
is  some  cursed  outside  malignant." 

While  Bob  Haley  became  an  interested  student  of  bric- 
a-brac,  the  angry  capitalist  sauntered  down  slowly  to  the 


154  •         MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF    THE    MABIQUITA. 

clubs.  The  aecorous  gravity  of  the  interior  two  leading 
clubs  showed  him  no  foe  afield,  no  enemy  afoot;  but,  as 
he  entered  the  "  Bohemian,"  a  breathless  private  mes- 
senger handed  him  a  cipher  note  from  Broker  Wilder.  It 
was  Wyman's  uniform  practice  never  to  personally  dabble 
in  his  own  operations,  large  or  small.  Lingering  in  his 
spider  parlor,  he  could  thus  throw  his  own  golden  reserves 
in  at  ten  minutes  notice,  behind  the  gay  Murat  of  his  money 
battles.  There  was  a  secret  meeting  place  also  for  field 
days,  near  the  "  Big  Board."  While  the  boy  cooled  his 
heels  in  the  hall,  Wyman  quickly  deciphered  the  note.  It 
told  him  of  an  unwonted  sudden  demand  for  the  ' '  Lone 
Star"  stock  and  asked  for  new  orders.  The  club  paj^er, 
usually  dedicated  to  the  roystering  service  of  Bacchus  or  the 
mysteries  of  the  Paphian  goddess,  soon  bore  a  cabalistic 
scrawl,  ordering  Wilder  to  "run  the  stock  up  as  high  as 
possible,"  and  then,  feed  out  ten  thousand  shares,  through 
the  unknown  twin  broker,  a  careful  soul,  who  was  the 
"other  Wilder,"  all  unknown  to  that  fat  goose,  the  public. 
"Run,"  whispered  Wyman,  as  the  boy's  hand  closed  on 
a  ten  dollar  gold  piece.  "  I  will  give  them  a  merry  dance 
at  any.  rate,"  grimly  mused  Wyman  Avith  a  cruel  smile 
lurking  on  his  facile  face.  "Now,  I'll  be  bail,"  remarked 
Tom  Shinn,  the  Celtic  bard  and  all  round  genius,  to  a 
friend  who  was  "  driving  a  nail  "  with  him, — "That  slick 
wretch  Wyman  has  just  added  some  new  f angled  swindle 
to  the  tail  of  his  kite.  There's  a  chap  who  will  run  hard 
up  against  a  stone  wall,  some  fine  day."  But,  Avith  his  eye 
fixed  on  the  club  owl,  Wyman  silently  marked  the  near  ap- 
proach of  the  breakfast  hour.  He  had  named  his  proposed 
Avhereabouts  to  Wilder  in  the  note,  and  he  burned  now  to 
have  the  counsel  of  the  A^eh^et-cheeked  Avoman  who  had  led 
him  out  of  social  obscurity  ' '  on  the  heights  "  of  his  local 
fame. 


ONE  OF  NATURE'S  NOBLEMEN.  155 

"Oh!  yes,  I'll  certainly  be  at  Mrs.  Hammond's,  Varick," 
he  listlessly  answered  to  a  chance  club  query.  "What  or 
who  is  this  new  wonder?  "     His  clubmate  smiled. 

' '  Don't  you  know  her?  Gladys  Lyndon,  the  new  budding 
Patti.  By  Jove!  Wyman,  that  girl's  faultless  face,  alone, 
will  make  her  way.  Don't  fail  to  show  up.  She's  really 
worth  hearing." 

Wyman  lightly  laughed  as  he  noted  the  welcome  hour 
approaching  when  his  brown-eyed  Egeria  would  materialize 
at  "Marchand's."  "Her  faultless  face,  oh!  yes,  by  all 
means,  I  must  not  miss  a  glimpse,  one  little  glimpse  of  its 
cold  perfection."  There  was  an  unwonted  energy  in 
Wyman's  stride  as  he  measured  the  little  "breather" 
from  the  Bohemian  to  Marchand's  restaurant.  Up  the  stairs, 
where  so  many  timid  novices  and  bolder  amatory  matrons 
have  fearfully  sought  for  the  right  number,  in  the  dis- 
jointed puzzle  of  its  many  doors,  the  young  millionaire 
strode,  and  a  glance  in  the  dim  interior  of  the  special 
apartment,  known  as  "Wyman's  den,"  showed  him  that 
his  pretty  tigress  was  not  yet  afield.  The  feast  was,  how- 
ever, all  set  and  for  once  in  his  life,  the  blase  mining 
d'Orsay  listened  with  beating  heart  for  the  coming  of 
lightly  springing  feet.  He  had  not  neglected  to  provide  an 
extraordinary  exemplification  of  California's  exquisite 
floral  wealth. 

The  unconscious  warmth  of  his  eager  greeting  brought 
dancing  rays  of  mirth  to  the  eyes  of  the  incomparable 
Vinnie  Hinton,  at  she  twisted  oft'  the  very  prettiest  spray 
of  the  roses  to  adorn  her  all  too  amiable  bosom. 

A  single  glance  told  her  at  once  that  something  was 
amiss  with  her  lover.  Tossing  her  gloves  and  hat  lightly 
in  a  corner,  the  gay  empress  of  Shadowland  said: 

"  Fred,  give  me  just  a  tiny  glass  of  that  Chablis,  and 
then  tell  me  all  about  it.     You're  in  trouble,  my  boy,  and 


156  HISS    DEVEREtTX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

don't  forget  to  tell  me  the  whole  truth;  the  whole  truth, 
sir,  and  nothing  but  the  truth." 

Wyman's  protestation  of  worn-out  platitudes  resulted  in 
a  very,  very  pretty  woman,  perched  on  his  knee,  saying 
gently:  "Fred,  I  will  forgive  all  the  white  lies  of  the 
past.  Give  me  now  a  clear,  straight  story."  And  so, 
while  the  practical  siren  dallied  with  her  oysters,  Wyman 
slowly  unburdened  his  stormy  soul.  He  was  full  of  the 
subject,  and  did  not  notice  a  twinkling  light  in  Vinnie's 
eyes. 

"Now,  I  can  for  once  give  you  a  reward  of  merit,"  she 
laughed,  as  she  affixed  an  improvised  boutonniere,  and 
hummed  merrily,  "Call  me  back  again."  "There's  a 
very  nice  new  necklace  in  the  window  down  at  '  Shreve's,' 
marked  five  thousand  dollars.  You  should  have  my  name 
most  neatly  engraved  on  the  clasp,  and  you  can  also  say, 
'  Love,  the  giver,'  if  you  wish.  Shall  I  tell  you  a  bit  of 
news?  "     Her  eyes  were  glowing. 

"Anything,  anything  you  ask,  Vinnie,"  hoarsely  mut- 
tered  Wyman.   "  Don't  keep  me  waiting." 

"Well  then,  I'll  trust  now  entirely  to  your  honor." 

Fred  nodded,  and  his  eyes  sealed  the  unspoken  promise 
about  the  necklace.  < '  I  was  down  at  the  <  old  camp 
ground*  last  night.     The  usual  lot  were  there." 

Wyman  sprang  up,  for  the  Sacramento  street  golden 
bird-cage  from  whence  she  once  came  to  him,  a  fair  de- 
serter, was  so  termed.  "The  usual  lot,"  in  her  gay 
words,  was  a  triumvirate  so  weighty  as  to  then  rule  the 
destinies  of  all  Nevada's  silver  mountains  up  to  this  very 
fateful  hour. 

"  Well,  your  own  name  strangely  came  up.  I  said  noth- 
ing, for  they  have  no  idea  of  our  secret  life,  and,  besides, 
the  '  old  Judge '  was  making  dead  love  to  me,  while  the 
Chiefs  all  talked  shop."     She  laughed  merrily.      "  But  I 


ONE  OF  NATURE'S  NOBLEMEN.  157 

always  take  all  their  talk  in  quietly,  on  general  principles." 
Vinnie  softly  smiled  a  triumphant  smile,  as  Wyman's  eager 
arms  stole  round  her  supple  waist.  He  was  kneeling  at 
her  side  now,  his  burning  eyes  gleaming  into  her  own  ! 
<<  First  they  all  raved  about  the  <  War  Hawk,'  a  Reese 
river  mine  they  were  unloading  on  the  market.  They  just 
had  received  a  private  dispatch  that  the  mine  had  been  all 
burned  out  inside,  and  had  then  caved  in.  «  That  knocks 
the  stock  from  twenty  clown  to  two  dollars  in  the  next 
week,'  growled  the  Duke,  and  then,  Fred,  he  raved  on 
about  being  terribly  short  on  your  stock,  the  <  Lone  Star.'  He 
wanted  to  borrow  a  lot  of  the  stock  from  the  other  two  of 
the  big  syndicates.  '  Haven't  got  any,'  was  all  he  could  get 
as  reply  from  his  partners,  and  then  they  all  chipped  in 
with  the  inside  story  of  its  being  run  way  up  in  price  to 
get  a  cinch  on  you  at  the  next  election.  It  appears  that 
you  blackballed  a  lawyer  here,  a  man  I  don't  know, 
Waldo  Strong,  at  the  Yacht  Club,  some  time  since." 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  hissed  Wyman.  "  I  hate  the  fellow!  He 
fought  me  like  a  tiger  as  Vice-President  of  the  Art  Asso- 
ciation, and,  he  moved  heaven  and  earth  to  defeat  me  there. 
So,  I  got  all  the  money  men  I  knew  to  throw  out  his  name 
from  the  Yacht  Club.  I  have  never  met  him,  but  I  have 
good  reason  to  hate  him." 

"Weil,"  said  Vinnie, "sit  down  like  a  Christian,  now, 
and  I'll  finish,  for  I  want  my  breakfast,  sir,"  she  laughed. 
"He  has  patched  up  a  sort  of  a  floating  title  to  some  of 
'Jim  and  Andy's  '  outside  claims.  He  lost  money  on  back- 
ing our  party.  He  wants  to  get  even.  He  has  got  the 
real  idea  of  gathering  in  all  the  loose  stock  of  the  « Lone 
Star, '  and  then,  turning  you  out,  or  investigating  your 
management.  The  Syndicate  said  he  had  scraped  Virginia 
City  clean  of  all  the  loose  stock,  and  they  canvassed 
your  own  name,  and  all  of  them  said  you  would  be  in  a 


158  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

bad  hole,  if  this  fellow  Strong  ever  got  three  or  four 
Directors.  He  is  smart,  and  he  has  some  outside  money 
behind  him  now.  You  must  have  let  the  stock  get  away 
from  you." 

"  Who  backs  him?  "  sharply  queried  Wyman. 

"  They  don't  know  themselves!"  simply  answered  Vinnie. 
' '  I  was  afraid  that  my  face  would  betray  me,  and  so,  I 
made  play  with  the  old  Judge,  to  cover  up  the  listening 
dodge.  That  was  all,  and  then  they  went  on  talking  again 
about  this  disastrous  fire  in  the  War  Hawk.  I  commenced 
to  drink  some  wine,  just  for  fun,  with  these  three  gay  old 
bugs,  and,  the  usual  result,  I  forgot  myself.  I  have  a 
headache.  They  got  me  dancing  and  cutting  up,  and  I  did 
not  get  home;  but  I  hope  I  have  helped  you.  I  know  I 
didn't  help  myself!"  she  laughed,  and  drank  a  glass  of 
Burgundy. 

Wyman  came  around  the  table,  and  softly  kissed  the 
rosy  partner  of  his  easy  sins.  "  There  will  be  the  ear-rings 
with  that  necklace.  You  are  a  game  girl.  So  you  made  a 
night  of  it,  you  pretty  devil.  And,  you  have  really  given  me 
the  clue.  All  I  want  you  to  do  for  me,  for  the  next  week, 
is  just  to  make  it  pretty  public  that  you  have  stolen  away 
with  me  for  a  few  days,  *  on  the  strictly  quiet. '  See 
these  old  boys  down  there;  I  want  them  all  to  know  it! 
Stay  here  a  couple  of  days,  and  come  in  and  out  of  my 
rooms  often;  show  yourself  openly.  Keep  your  carriage 
standing  out  there  in  front.  Then,  get  quietly  out  of 
town.  Go  at  night  over  to  Alvarado  and  telegraph  me 
to  Virginia  City.  The  cipher  address  I  gave  you.  I  will 
come  back  then  with  you,  here  openly,  in  a  week,  for  I 
will  join  you  there  at  Alvarado,  on  the  sly.  Wait  there 
for  me,  blow  high,  blow  low." 

"I'll  do  it,  Fred!"  laughed  Vinnie,  "but,  I  am  still 
only  a  woman.     I  must  know  all."     When  they  had  di- 


one  or  nature's  NOBLEMEN.  159 

vided  a  glass  of  champagne,  with  loving  eyes  gazing  in 
her  own,  Wyman  whispered: 

< '  I  am  going  up  on  a  private  engine  to  Virginia  City  at 
midnight.  I  will  flatten  out  this  chap,  Waldo  Strong, 
flatter  than  a  pancake.  And  you,  Vinnie,  are  supposed  to 
keep  me  in  garrison  here,  apparently,  for  a  couple  of  days, 
and  then,  fly  by  night.  But,  load  up  those  old  boys  with 
the  story." 

The  man  who  had  neither  faith  nor  respect  for  woman- 
hood, left  the  room  an  hour  later,  light-hearted  and  trust- 
ing his  whole  cause,  the  Waterloo  field-day  of  ten  years, 
to  the  amour  propre  of  a  reckless  light-o'-love. 

As  Wyman  disappeared,  Vinnie  Hinton  followed  him, 
for  once,  with  admiring  eyes.  "  He  has  trusted  me,  all  in 
all,  and  I  will  not  <  go  back  '  on  him!  " 

At  seven  o'clock,  the  stern-eyed  Captain  Bob  Haley  was 
astounded,  when  the  panting  steeds  drew  up  at  Wyman's 
door  on  the  return  from  the  twenty-mile  dash,  for 
Wyman  had  simply  said:  "Wait  here,  and  don't  show 
your  face  outside.  I  must  go  to  a  reception,  but  at  sharp 
midnight  we  go  to  Virginia  City  on  a  special  engine,  and 
'  mum's'  the  word.     It  is  for  blood!  " 


160  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
Her  Faultless  Face. 

"Captain,  I  have  a  special  reason  to  ask  you  to  keep 
closely  to  your  room  here,"  quietly  said  Wyman,  as  they 
mounted  the  stair.  ' '  I  am  watched  night  and  day  by 
stock  spies,  and  the  morning  papers  would  be  full  of  my 
trip  if  we  were  seen  going  away  ^together.  My  man  will 
serve  your  dinner  in  your  rooms,  and  also  get  you  any- 
thing you  wish  for.  Next  time  when  you  come  down,  I 
will  show  you  the  town  in  style.  I'll  be  back  here  at  eleven. 
I  have  just  telegraphed  for  an  engine  to  wait  at  the  Oakland 
wharf,  ready  for  Truckee.  We  will  get  another  one 
there,  and  the  tug  will  be  on  hand  at  Naval  Boat  Landing. 
So,  make  yourself  comfortable." 

"All  right!  Don't  mind  me.  Business  is  business. 
I'm  glad  enough  to  get  back  to  Virginia  City,"  curtly  re- 
joined Haley.     ' <  I  have  no  use  for  this  town." 

It  was  true.  When  Haley  was  not  doing  his  troglodyte 
"specialty  act,"  on  the  Comstock,  his  pleasures  were  two. 
One,  the  practice  of  a  little  confidential  "  poker  "  game  of 
Draconian  rigidity,  with  a  few  other  "foremen "  of  mines, 
or  else  keeping  up  his  unerring  aim,  by  slaying  ' '  sage 
hens "  on  a  Sabbath  day.  The  gray-eyed  "fire-eater  "  was 
secretly  admired  by  all  the  "  Camilles  "  of  the  Comstock, 
yet,  no  woman  had  ever  sat  beside  him  after  his  spectral 
trotter.  A  convenient  shortness  of  hair  saved  this 
mighty  man  of  the  mining  camp  from  the  blandishments 
of  the  audacious  Delilahs  of  C  street.  "No,  sir,"  he 
promptly  answered  once  when  rallied  on  his  lonely  life. 


HER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  161 

< « None  in  mine.  I  let  women  alone,  on  principle !  "  The 
"  cup  that  inebriates  while  it  vastly  cheers,"  was  also  given 
the  "go  by."  "  What's  the  good  of  a  walking  whisky 
tank,  anyhow?"  was  Haley's  curt  criticism.  "When  a  man 
makes  drinking  his  profession,  he  ought  to  stick  to  it,  and 
let  deep  mining  alone."  So,  Captain  Bob  Haley  was  not 
denied  the  crowning  glory  of  a  "spree  in  'Frisco"  by  his 
lonely  evening  at  Wy man's  rooms.  He  spent  his  four 
hours,  however,  in  enjoying  an  excellent  dinner  and  peer- 
ing into  the  future  through  the  smoke  of  several  of 
Wyman's  best  cigars.  His  eyes  were  fixed  in  wonder  at 
the  artistic  indelicacy  of  certain  wall  pictures,  only  they 
dropped  now  and  then  to  the  practical,  as  he  slapped  his 
muscular  leg,  as  if  he  would  smartly  extract  an  answer  to 
his  semi-profane  query :  "I  wonder  what  the  hell  he  is 
going  to  do  now  up  at  the  mine?  " 

That  practical  problem  had  agitated  the  absent  million- 
aire, from  the  very  moment  when  he  sat  down  to  his  soli- 
tary meal  in  his  own  sanctum.  The  disclosures  of  Vinnie 
Hinton  had  gravely  alarmed  him?  moreover,  they  enraged 
him! 

"Mr.  Waldo  Strong!  I'll  ."     He  ground  his  teeth 

and  shivered,  as  he  studied  the  best  method  to  crush  the 
hostile  son  of  Blackstone.  Keen-eyed  Tony  Morani  noted 
his  master's  nervousness. 

"Do  you  want  a  fire,  sir?  "  he  said.  But,  his  eyes 
opened  in  wonder,  as  Wyman  sprang  up. 

"Yes,  by  God!  That's  the  very  thing.  A  fire!  Yes, 
a  fire!"  the  millionaire  cried,  and  Tony,  on  his  knees,  won- 
dered as  his  master  poured  out  a  terrific  horn. 

"  You  must  have  got  a  chill  down  at  the  beach.  The 
fire  will  make  you  all  right." 

As  the  red  flames  leaped  up  and  danced  high  in  the  fire- 
place, Wyman  dropped  his  head  in  his  hands  and  murmured : 


162  MISS    DEVEBEUX    OP    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"Yes,  the  fire  will  make  me  all  right!  "     The  valet  stood 
aghast  looking  on  at  the  unfinished  dinner. 

"  Are  you  really  well  enough  to  go  out,  sir?"  Shall  I 
have  Dr.  Boland  come  in? "  The  servitor  was  truly 
alarmed,  but  it  was  only  for  his  place.  Tony  knew  the 
value  of  "  a  good  thing,"  and  had  seen  several  of  Califor- 
nia's most  promising  capitalists  wafted  away  to  some 
"distant  shore,"  at  the  beck  of  that  veritable  "  pride  of 
the  West" — pneumonia.  These  men,  "not lost,  but  gone 
before,"  had  never,  by  auricular  or  written  communica- 
tion, indicated  whether  or  not  they  had  "struck  a  better 
place  than  'Frisco."  If  Dr.  Watts  and  many  others  may 
be  believed  (the  wise,  pessimistic  clerical  croakers),  the 
chances  were  decidedly  against  these  "  sons  of  Belial,"  for 
they  had  been  ruthlessly  pulled-up  while  '  <  going  the  hot- 
test pace." 

"I  couldn't  afford  to  lose  this  man,  he's  'one  of 
Nature's  noblemen,'  "  said  Morani,  appreciatively,  as  he 
slipped  out  to  warm  a  small  bottle  of  especial  Burgundy 
for  his  master.  On  principle,  Wyman  always  allowed 
Morani  to  rob  him,  with  the  lofty  disdain  of  a  Grand 
Seigneur.  "  I'll  more  than  get  even,  anyway,  on  the  other 
fellows;"  he  sneered,  "we  are  all  a  gang  of  thieves  after 
all,  out  here,  from  the  big  shark  to  the  little  minnow." 
A  just  personal  estimate! 

Wyman  recalled,  while  dreaming  alone  at  the  fire,  Vin- 
nie  Hinton's  story  of  the  mishap  at  the  "War  Hawk 
Mine."  "That  would  just  be  the  very  '  racket,'  if  I  could 
only  work  it, ' '  lie  mused.  "I  wonder  if  it  was  a '  square  ' 
accident.  If  I  could  only  throw  this  stock  down  now 
quickly,  I  could  crush  this  parchment-faced  sneak,  and  all 
of  his  gang.  But,  the  "War  Hawk  "  thing  is  too  recent. 
It  was  not  so  serious  after  all,  and,  I  have  this  cool  Bob 
Haley  to  outwit,  and  all  the  reporters,  and  these  sharp  bar- 


HER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  103 

room  'experts'  of  Virginia  City.  Fire!  yes,  a  tire!  Vin- 
nie  gave  me  the  right  cue.  But,  it  must  be  a  real  disas- 
ter— no  humbug!  Sudden,  sharp,  a  serious  matter.  That 
alone  will  drop  the  stock  to  where  I  want  it." 

Mr.  Frederick  Wyman's  face  was  ashen  pale  as  he  poured 
the  choice  wine  down  his  throat.  He  only  drank  to  distract 
the  valet,  and  to  cut  off  his  voluble  sympathy.  "  By 
Jove!  Stop  your  croaking!"  he  cried  finally.  "I  am  not 
dead  or  dying.  Lay  out  my  dress  things.  I  am  going  up 
to  Mrs.  Hammond's  reception.  " 

"  At  what  time,  sir?"  queried  the  alert  valet. 

"  Half -past  eight, "  wearily  answered  his  master. 
"  There's  going  to  be  music.  Miss — Miss  Lyndon.  Do 
you  know  anything  about  her?"  Wyman  eyed  the  spry 
little  Machiavel  keenly,  as  he  brought  in  the  cigar  tray. 

Morani  was  the  peerless  Figaro  of  San  Francisco.  Dilet- 
tante and  raffine ,  he  was  the  star,  par  excellence,  in  the 
wicked  upper  circles  of  those  pretty  soubrettes,  who  were  a 
fittingly  lurid  background  to  those  reckless  social  prem- 
ieres— their  San  Francisco  mistresses.  Bright-eyed,  hard- 
hearted, neck  or  nothing,  the  suddenly  evolved  dames  of 
•fashion,  were  now  "  out-Heroding  Herod  "  and  "showing 
the  way  "  to  their  startled  sisters  of  the  fast  sets  of  the 
East.  To  use  the  confidential  remark  of  one  of  these 
Madame  Benoitons:  "Paris  was  not  in  it,  with  San  Fran- 
cisco." Morani  cast  eyes  of  admiration  to  the  ceiling,  as 
if  invoking  the  benediction  of  Vinnie  Hinton's  resplend- 
ent loveliness,  glowing  there  above. 

"  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon,  a  tall  perfect  blonde,  sir.  Most 
lovely  blonde  I  ever  saw,  sir.  Always  riding  out  with 
Mrs.  Hammond  now.  See  them  very  often  in  the  park. 
Mr.  Strong,  the  lawyer,  too,  along  with  them, .  often  on 
horseback." 

"Ah!  "  There  was  a  steely  glitter  in  the  borderer's  dark 


164  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

eyes.  "How  long  has  this  been  going  on?"  Morani 
deftly  handed  the  Damascus  coffee  cup  to  his  master. 

4  'Oh !  a  couple  of  months,  sir.  She  has  only  given  one  pub- 
lic concert.  You  were  away.  Great  success.  Mr.  Strong  on 
the  committee,  and  all  that.  You  know  he's  very  chummy 
with  Mrs.  Hammond,  sir."  Morani  dropped  his  eyes  to 
conceal  his  virtuous  emotions.  "I  suppose  that  Mr. 
Strong  is  only  obliging  Mrs.  Hammond,  in  this  musical 
matter."     There  was  an    implication  in  his  velvety  tones. 

"Oh!  I  see,"  cried  Wynian,  as  Morani  escaped.  "  Very 
likely  he  is  obliging  himself  also,  if  what  this  fellow  says 
is  true,"  and  his  eyes  bent  on  the  dancing  flames  of  the 
live  oak  and  madrona  he  l6ved  to  see  crackling  in  the  fire- 
place. Wyman  swore  a  deep  oath.  "I  will  lay  this  lawyer 
sneak  out,  crush  him,  and— and  by  Heavens!  I  will  take 
the  'tall  perfect  blonde'  away  from  him.  Yes!"  and 
Wyman  strode  up  and  down  the  room.  "  I  will  get  solid 
with  the  Hammond,  and  then  turn  her  against  Mr.  Waldo 
Strong.  Damn  him!  "  A  charming  future  outlook  for 
the  lawyer! 

There  was  a  peculiarly  devilish  smile  lurking  around 
Frederick  Wyman's  sneering  lips  as  he  surveyed  himself, 
when  the  admiring  Morani  released  him  from  his  clutches 
an  hour  later. 

"  The  carriage  is  now  in  waiting,  sir,"  announced  the 
Leporello. 

Wyman  passed  out  through  Bob  Haley's  room  and 
startled  that  staid  miner  of  fighting  antecedents,  with  the 
vision  of  an  Apollo  Belvedere  a  la  mode.  "  Frederick  the 
Great  "  was  thoroughly  satisfied  with  himself  now.  He 
felt  the  peculiar  rigidity  of  backbone  which  "  coin " 
quickly  imparts,  and  he  had  acquired  a  "  noli  me  tangere  " 
hauteur,  which  now  looked  haughtily  over  all  men  below 
him  in  the  financial  scale.     As   to  the   outer   man,  he  had 


HER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  165 

indeed  in  these  ten  years  merited  Vinnie  Hin ton's  encom- 
iums. < '  I've  done  a  good  deal  with  you,  "  she  had  mur- 
mured once  in  a  burst  of  gratified  womanly  pride.  "  You 
now  only  need  a  foreign  tour,  and  then  a  careful  reim- 
portation "  she  merrily  laughed.  "You  would  be  swell 
enough  for  this  *  western  lot,'  anyway,  just  as  you  are  now. 
I  have  finished  you!"  And,  many  a  silver-necked  bottle 
they  had  "  punished"  to  that  wicked  favorite  toast,  "  To 
the  finishing  process."  This  was  a  vague  reference  to  a 
trip  to  London,  Paris, and  other  « '  worlds  yetunconquered," 
where  they  would  linger,  ' '  the  world  forgetting,  by  the 
world  forgot,"  in  that  sweet  trance  of  sinful  dreaming  which 
knows  no  rude  awakening  usually,  save,  alas !  the  money 
running  out!  It  is  a  sad  and  awkward  fact  that  "  delayed 
remittances  "  have  broken  up  more  of  these  little  tempo- 
rary "  earthly  Paradise  "  episodes,  than  all  the  remorse 
which  Sunday  School  books  describe  to  us  as  eating  into 
the  hearts  of  the  wicked ! 

The  ingratitude  of  the  ' '  tyrant  man  "  was  shown  in  the 
delightful  dreams  which  caused  Frederick  Wyman  to 
chuckle  softly,  as  his  easily-hung  carriage  rolled  along 
towards  the  aristocratic  shades  of  Van  Ness  avenue.  Some 
imp  of  Satan  had  just  suggested  to  him  the  "tall  perfect 
blonde,"  as  "  an  admirable  companion"  for  that  future 
voyage  to  Europe,  to  effect  the  "finishing"  of  his  d'Orsay 
elegance. 

« '  It  would  be  a  rare  sort  of  a  Don  Juan  idea 
— very  dashing — and,  the  Hammond  is  just  the  very 
woman  to  help  me,"  the  capitalist  mused  over  his  easy- 
going relations  with  Mrs.  Milly  Hammond.  "  That  society 
leader  "  had  already  several  turned  down  pages  in  her  re- 
markable "book  of  life,"  the  dates  of  which  vaguely  re- 
called certain  checks  of  the  capitalist  of  the  "  Lone  Star," 
marked  "private  account,"  and  drawn  to  his  "own  order," 


166  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

and  endorsed  also  by  i '  himself. "  A  very  adaptable  per- 
son, and  most  useful  in  her  way  to  herself,  the  lady  really 
merited  her  name  of  "  E  pluribus  unum,"  for  she  was  really 
"  many  in  one,"  and,  as  was  wittily  remarked  by  Mr. 
Arthur  O'Leary,  of  the  "  Clarion,"  she  was  "  all  things  to 
all  men." 

"  First,  I'll  lay  out  this  Mr.  Waldo  Strong,  and 
then,  after  I  have  attended  his  financial  auto  da-fe,  and 
seen  his  cold  ashes  scattered  to  the  viewless  winds,  I  will 
induce  dear,  jolly  little  Mrs.  Hammond  to  give  a  neat 
little  private  breakfast  of  about  three  persons;  "  so  the 
glittering-eyed  schemer  dreamed.  "  About  five  hundred 
dollars  worth  of  breakfast,"  he  sneered,  "with  possibly 
another  five  hundred  dollars  worth  of  dessert,  later!  " 

These  mingled  thoughts  of  love  and  fire,  busied  Mr. 
Wyman,  until  he  stepped  out,  at  the  hospitable  doors  of 
the  lady  whose  help  he  so  confidently  counted  upon.  * '  But, 
just  how  to  work  this  little  Virginia  City  matter,  I  do  not 
as  yet  see,"  he  murmured,  as  he  gave  stern  orders  to  his 
coachman,  and  yet  his  brow  was  all  smiling  and  unruf- 
fled, as  he  plumed  himself  proudly  into  the  dressing-room. 

He  had  designedly  gone  early  to  the  lair  of  that  Calypso, 
Mrs.  Hammond,  and  his  perfect  entente  cordiale  with  the 
hostess,  as  well  as  her  memory  of  "  the  days  that  were," 
was  evinced  in  the  skill  with  which  the  lady  piloted  her 
visitor  into  the  conservatory  for  a  few  moments,  for  he 
was  judiciously  early,  the  bower  was  dark.  Provided  with 
an  excellent  "running  mate," who  welcomed  the  incoming 
tide  of  guests,  dashing,  velvet-eyed  Mrs.  Hammond, 
panted  for  just  a  few  moments  in  dumb  show  behind  her 
thickest  "invisible  green"  of  friendly  shrubs,  in  quick 
answers  to  Wymari's  eager  questions. 

"You  have  not  met  Gladys?  Her  voice  is  wonderful! 
Such  a  lovely   girl,  and  she  so  wishes  to  go    to  Europe, 


HER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  1G7 

and  finish  her  education.  Then  the  opera,  the  opera! 
She  is  a  perfect  wonder!  a  second  Patti."  Wyman  admir- 
ingly eyed  the  ripe  loveliness  of  the  shapely  brunette,  who 
in  gold-colored  satin  and  black  lace  was  a"  standing  temp- 
tation," as  she  eagerly  eyed  him.  "  Did  you  wish  to  see 
me  for  any  particular  business,  Fred?  "  said  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond, as  with  flaming  cheeks,  she  dropped  her  eyes  sud- 
denly under  Wyman's  brutally  direct  gaze. 

"  Listen,"  he  said,  * '  I  have  to  go  away  for  a  few  days, 
down  country.  I  will  only  have  a  chance  to  hear  your 
friend's  wonderful  voice  in  one  song.  I  have  a  vast  lot  of 
business  to  finish  up  to-night.  Now,  Milly,  you  can't  stay 
long  with  me.  As  soon  as  I  come  back,  I  want  you  to  ask 
this  wonderful  girl  to  breakfast  here,  at  your  house,  alone, 
with  you  and  me,  as  if  by  accident.  Don't  forget,  alone! " 
and,  he  leaned  and  whispered  a  few  words  which  brought  a 
benign  smile  to  her  startled  face. 

"  All  right,  Fred,"  she  laughed,  as  she  uncoiled  herself 
from  a  human  tangle  into  which  she  had  "  accidentally  " 
been  betrayed,  and  then,  ran  away  with  her  finger  on  her 
lips.  Her  eyes  were  gleaming  with  a  vicious  pleasure,  as 
she  turned  on  the  step  of  the  most  conveniently  arranged 
dead  angle  passage.  "  But,  I  warn  you,  it  will  be  all  time 
thrown  away.  She's  a  prude."  There  was  a  tempting  res- 
ignation in  her  own  smile. 

"We  will  see  about  that,"  grimly  remarked  Wyman,  as 
he  quickly  turned  and  sought  a  blossom  to  replace  the 
boutonniere  which  had  been  crushed  under  his  foot,  as  he 
stood  for  a  moment  straining  his  lovely  hostess  to  his 
breast  in  that  "human  entanglement."  With  unconscious 
egoism  he  sought  the  rarest  blossom,  and,  as  he  noted  the 
spray  of  lilies*  of  the  valley  lying  there  under  his  careless 
foot,  the  delicate  rose-bud  stained  and  ruined,  he  sneered, 
"  Leaf  by  leaf  the  roses  faj.1.     So,  this  tall,  perfect  blonde 


168  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

seems  to  be  a  frozen  Venus."  As  the  glittering  steel 
blade  of  his  penknife  severed  a  fragrant  bud,  the  deep 
boom  of  a  bell  smote  upon  his  ear  in  solemn  clangor. 

"  Fire!  fire!  "  it  signaled  to  the  throbbing  air  of  night! 
Wyman  started  with  pain,  for  he  had  cut  his  gloved  fin- 
gers to  the  very  bone.  The  dismal  signal  had  recalled 
Vinnie  Hinton's  strange  story  of  the  accident  in  the  War 
Hawk  mine,  and  it  crystallized  an  awful  purpose  brood- 
ing in  his  mind.  "  Yes,  yes,  a  fire  will  fix  me  all  right! " 
he  muttered,  between  deep  curses,  as  he  essayed  to  staunch 
the  flowing  blood.  By  the  dint  of  a  tight  knot,  he  suc- 
ceeded, and  then,  covered  the  wounded  hand  with  the  silken 
folds  of  his  handkerchief,   as   well  as  he  could. 

For  fifteen  minutes,  he  debated  his  course.  It  was  impos- 
sible for  him  now  to  mingle  in  the  crowd  of  guests  throng- 
ing the  salon,  from  whence  the  preparatory  notes  of  the 
accompanist  were  heard,  high  above  the  lively  hum  of  what 
was  gaily  termed  by  the  knowing,  as  a  "  California 
crowd. " 

The  social  reporter  (feminine),  at  her  first  glass  of 
champagne,  in  the  hidden  coign  of  vantage  sacred  to  her, 
had  already  entered  in  her  note-book  the  words,  "un- 
equaled  gathering  of  beauty  and  fashion."  This  auspic- 
ious beginning  was  destined  to  blossom  out  into  the  most 
glowing  technical  description  of  the  marketable  or  mar- 
keted loveliness  present,  with  toilet  details,  more  or  less 
minute,  according  to  the  liberality  of  the  "  shy  sisters," 
who  daily  advertised  themselves  furtively,  under  the  head- 
ing,   "Society  News." 

Wyman,  who  was  now  much  disconcerted  by  his 
accident,  glowered  at  the  hundred  and  fifty  men  and 
women  crowding  the  Hammond  parlors.  He  was  search- 
ing for  some  Fidus  Achates  to  aid  him.  "  I  don't  care  to 
go  away  till  I  have  caught  a  glimpse  of  this  wonderful 


11EE    EAILTLE.SS    FACE.  169 

Gladys  Lyndon.  I  would  like  to  hear  her  voice,this  aame 
budding  Patti.  After  that,  when  I  have  seen  her,  if  it  is 
worth  my  while,  I  will  get  over  to  the  Oakland   landing." 

He  had  business  now  at  Virginia  City,  of  which  he  was 
again  reminded  by  the  heavy  rumble  of  the  passing  fire- 
engines  ,the  flaring  lights  and  the  clangor  of  the  firemen  rush- 
ing wildly  along  the  planked  streets.  His  eye  rested  on  the 
throng  of  eager  women  faces  moving  in  a  Devil's  auction 
parade  through  the  splendid  rooms,  so  seldom  graced  by 
the  ubiquitous  Mr.  Hammond,  whose  absence  gave  to  the 
dashing  Milly  a  "free  hand,"  an  easy  condition  of  which 
she  availed  herself  by  going  it  alone. 

It  was  very  well  known  in  "  high-life  "  society  that  the 
practical  Hammond  paid  only  a  judiciously  selected  pro- 
portion of  the  family  bills,  leaving  his  gay  wife  "  to  spar 
around,"  as  it  was  charitably  termed,  for  the  means  to 
keep  up  certain  "unexplained  splendors."  The  gleam  of 
pearls  and  diamonds,  glitter  of  sapphire  and  ruby,  flash  of 
emerald  and  carven  wealth  of  gold,  decking  the  ardent- 
browed  beauties  of  the  Occidental  City,  were  pale,  color- 
less and  faded  beside  the  vigorous  life  which  danced  in 
sparkling  eyes,  the  glow  on  warm  ivory  necks  and  heaving 
bosoms,  the  blue-veined  arms  rounded  in  life's  entrancing 
youthful  softness.  What  manner  of  heart  beat  under 
these  deeply-swept  and  tastefully-arranged  corsages,  was 
immaterial  to  the  gay,  reckless  men  whose  bold  eyes  needed 
not  the  halting  messages  of  the  tongue  to  tell  their  passion- 
ate stories.  All  was  a  spirited,  devilish  abandon  to  the 
reacting  influences  of  the  pride  of  the  eye  and  the  lusts  of 
the  flesh ;  for  it  was  in  the  height  of  the  Bonanza  Days, 
and,  only  Gold  was  King,  Silver  was  Dictator !  Bacchus, 
Venus,  and  blind-eyed  Fortune  were  ministers  of  the 
ceaseless  pleasures  which  nightly  followed  the  fierce  battles 
of  the  street. 


170  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

Careworn  schemers  forgot  here  their  heart-eating 
anxieties  in  the  smiles  of  the  Frou-Frons  who  had  de- 
scended, in  sudden  flight,  a  rosy  band  drawn  from  the  four 
quarters  of  the  whole  earth,  to  prey  here  on  banker,  broker, 
Bonanza  baron,  and  "  mining  man!  "  The  gleaming  rays 
of  the  Aladdin  Lamp  shining  out  from  Mount  Davidson 
had  drawn  from  distant  shores  a  swarm  of  men  and 
women,  all  in  the  flower  of  youth,  high-pulsed  in  the  pride 
of  life,  whose  social  note-books  of  memory,  when  inad- 
vertently opened,  showed  all  the  intrigues  of  reckless 
human  nature,  the  lurid  background  of  the  great  Civil  and 
Franco-German  wars,  and  all  the  vagaries  of  human  pride, 
passion,  vice,  and  covetousness.  Every  scheme  known  to 
the  Robert  Macaires  and  Cora  Pearls  of  a  dozen  countries 
flourished  here  on  the  golden  shores  of  the  West  in  a 
generous  competition  of  international  deviltry.  Codeless, 
historyless,  heartless,  reckless,  the  children  of  "Bonanza 
days,"  Folly's  wantons,- played  at  social  see-saw  for  hearts 
and  millions.  Promoted  servant-girls,  other  men's  wives, 
and  choice  bits  of  feminine  "  crookedness,"  reigned  in  the 
homes  of  the  suddenly  enriched,  whence  the  sad-eyed 
partner  of  an  honest  youth  often  went  forth  empty-handed, 
the  heart-broken  Hagar  of  an  upstart  Abraham. 

As  for  the  "Brokers  of  the  Big  Board,"  these  gentle- 
men of  leisure  and  pleasure,  sharks  by  day,  hawks  by 
night,  had  all  the  efflorescent  splendor  of  the  "cast-up" 
American,  and,  pitiless-eyed,  vulgar,  and  vain,  were 
coldly  mean  at  heart  in  their  be  jeweled  splendor.  Woe  to 
the  timid  dove  who  struggled  in  the  sharp  claws  of  these 
human  rapacidse.  Goethe,  with  his  usual  coarse  un- 
gallantry  of  the  higher  spirit,  has  remarked  that:  "When 
in  the  Devil's  dance  we  tread,  woman's  a  thousand  steps 
ahead  ! " 

The  removal  to  another,  and  it  is  hoped,  abetter  world, 


TIER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  lVl 

of  the  great  German  singer,  "urged  on  by  circumstances 
not  within  his  own  control,"  prevented  his  personal  ac- 
quaintance with  these  financial  "  stars  of  the  West,"  whom 
he  fairly  antedated  a  hundred  years.  Had  Johann  Wolf- 
gang von  Goethe  been  permitted  to  observe  the  sweeping 
style,  in  which  these  "game  chickens,"  the  "Bonanza 
Brokers,"  went  to  the  devil,  he  would  have  added  a  sup- 
plementary distich,  describing  the  "  distancing "  of  these 
unhappy  women,  the  subjects  of  his  song,  by  the  Cali- 
fornia Sons  of  Moloch;  for,  no  possible  human  competi- 
tion could  deprive  these  energetic  sinners  from  the  lurid 
laurels  due  to  their  speed  and  grim  moral  obliquities, 
— human  vultures. 

"The  whole  show  here  is  a  nice  lot,"  sneered  Wyman, 
intelligent  and  justly  minded,  even  if  withered  at  heart  by 
all  the  routine  vices  of  a  coarse  latter-day  money  roue. 
"Ah,  there's  Varick!  "  and,  in  response  to  a  silent  signal 
of  distress,  his  club  friend  made  his  way  on,  past  out- 
stretched arms  and  kindling  eyes,  to  where  Wyman  lurked 
in  the'  conservatory.  A  simultaneous  craning  of  necks, 
turning  of  heads  and  cessation  of  the  mingled  wickedness 
of  the  veiled  passion  play  in  the  salons,  told  Wyman  that 
the  "event  of  the  evening"  was  now  coming  on.  In  a 
few  hurried  whispers,  the  millionaire  told  of  his  plight, 
and  Varick  promptly  aided  him. 

"Wait  a  few  moments,  Miss  Lyndon  is  going  to  sing, 
and,  when  she  has  finished,  I  will  bring  in  Mrs.  Hammond 
to  you.  You  can  have  the  butler  let  you  out  of  the  side 
door  and  also  call  your  carriage,  and  I,  myself,  will  see  to 
your  coats  and  things. " 

''You're  a  good  fellow,  Varick,"  gratefully  answered 
Wyman.  "By  the  way,  name  any  day  after  a  week, 
when  you  can  breakfast  with  me,  at  my  rooms.  I  have 
some    new   pictures    there    which    I   wish    to    show.     A 


1*72  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    TIIE    MARIQUITA. 

Fortuny,  two  Corots,  and  a  very  fair  Bougereau.  I  have 
to  go  to  Los  Angeles  for  a  few  days  on  business." 

While  he  entered  the  date  in  his  note-book,  Wyman  smiled. 
"This  fellow  will  tell  half  of  these  women,  and  all  of  the 
club  men,  of  his  '  breakfast  invitation,'  and,  the  dark 
schemer  dreamed  of  a  fire  which  was  not  yet  lighted,  as 
he  listened  to  the  first  notes  of  a  voice  which  pierced  to 
his  very  heart ! 

" There!  There!  Is  she  not  a  wonder?  Isn't  that  a 
faultless  face?"  whispered  Varick,  clutching  Wyman 's 
arm  as  he  drew  the  young  man  to  a  corner,  from  whence  a 
lovely  girl  of  eighteen  could  be  seen  standing  at  the  grand 
piano.  A  scowl  passed  over  Wyman's  features  as  he  noted 
Mrs.  Milly  Hammond,  the  human  butterfly  so  lately  "  en- 
tangled "  in  his  arms,  earnestly  whispering,  in  a  corner, 
with  a  grave-faced  man  of  a  cold,  austere  air. 

"Is  not  that  this  lawyer  chap,  Waldo  Strong,  over 
there  with  the  Hammond?"  hoarsely  queried  Wyman,  as 
he  strove  to  see  the  hidden  face  of  the  woman  whose  voice 
now  rose  up  in  rich  floods  of  peerless  melody,  bringing  a 
rapt  abandon  to  the  faces  of  the  crowd  of  worldlings; 
for,  on  the  -waves  of  that  golden  flood  many  a  heart 
floated  back  to  the  dim  but  unforgotten  past. 

"Yes,  certainly.  Don't  you  know  Strong?  He's  'dead 
gone  '  on  this  girl.  Swears  he'll  marry  her,  and  all  that." 
Wyman's  heart  gripped  his  ribs  as  he  answered,  with  a 
smothered  curse : 

"No,  I  don't  know  him,  and  I  don't  care  to!  "  As  he 
spoke,  by  some  curiosity  of  mutual  repulsion,  Waldo 
Strong  turned  his  eyes  away  from  the  beautiful  face  which 
he  had  been  studying,  and,  guided  by  Milly  Hammond's 
furtive  glance,  sought  out  his  hidden  enemy,  Wyman. 

"He  is  not  much  to  look  at,"  muttered  Wyman,  as  the 
spare-framed  lawyer  stood  motionless,  his  passionless  face 


HER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  1*73 

turned  toward  them.  Beardless,  prematurely  yellowed 
with  the  flicker  of  midnight  oil,  a  face  with  the  thin,  firm 
lips  of  the  Jesuit,  a  mobile  mouth,  large  and  flat-lipped, 
a  hard,  stony  chin,  heavy,  high  cheek  bones,  and  an  over- 
hanging brow,  the  son  of  Blackstone  looked  to  be  only  a 
cold  animated  bundle  of  thoughts.  His  steely  gray-blue 
eyes  were  as  cold  as  the  winter  brook's  icy  flow,  steady 
and  fixed  as  the  North  Star.  Deliberate,  neat,  and  lithe 
in  all  his  movements,  there  was  little  to  suggest  either 
thirty-five  or  sixty  in  his  manner,  save  the  immediate 
personal  effect  of  his  presence,  for  he  seemed  to  discon- 
cert and  keep  up  those  around  him,  to  a  moral  nervous- 
ness. 

"  Looks  like  a  human  interrogation  point,  don't  he?" 
sneered  Wyman. 

"Nevermind.  You  keep  out  of  the  witness-box,  my 
boy,  if  he  has  you  under  cross-examination.  I'd  sooner 
fry  in  a  slow  fire  for  a  week.  He  tore  me  all  to  pieces  a 
few  weeks  ago.  'Liar  and  fool,  too,'  he  made  me  out, 
and,  by  Jove,  I  was  all  the  while,  telling  the  truth," 
laughed  Varick.  "Now,  now's  your  chance.  Get  a  good 
view  of  her  face,"  cried  the  Bohemian!  as  the  thunders 
of  applause  rang  out;  for  the  last  notes  of  "Adelaide" 
had  died  away  in  lingering  echoes,  and  Waldo  Strong 
leaped  forward,  to  be  the  very  first  to  press  the  hand  of 
the  young  goddess  of  the  night.  The  eager  glow  under- 
lying his  cold,  daily  mask  showed  this  Caesar  of  the 
forum  to  be  of  that  most  dangerous  human  species,  the 
intellectual  voluptuary.  A  man  to  linger  and  to  plot,  to 
triangulate  and  weave  his  web,  and  at  leisure  to  enjoy  the 
futile  efforts  of  his  prey  to  struggle  out  of  the  environ- 
ment of  his  practiced  intellect,  barring,  with  mathematical 
precision,  every  avenue  of  escape — a  man  to  enjoy  a 
woman   in   alienating  her  from  her  kind.     But,   the  red 


174  MISS    DEVEREUX    OP    THE    MARIQUITA. 

blood  flamed  up  in  Frederick  Wyman's  face,  as  for  the 
first  time  he  gazed  into  the  face  of  this  daughter  of  the 
gods,  divinely  tall  and  most  divinely  fair,  whose  cheek 
bloomed  in  deeper  roses  under  the  congratulations  of  the 
now  excited  guests. 

As  Wyman's  eyes  turned  to  Varick  to  confirm  the  en- 
comiums of  the  clubman,  a  cold,  metallic  voice  near  them 
smote  in  their  ears:  "No,  sir,  I  never  forget  a  face!  I've 
seen  that  face  before,  here,  in  this  very  town,  and  in  one  of 
the  music  halls,  too.  She  was  many  years  younger,  only  a 
slip  of.  a  girl,  and  there  was  an  old  fellow  who  stood 
guard  over  her."  As  the  two  men  moved  away  out  of 
hearing,  Wyman,  in  a  quiet  voice,  said  to  Varick  : 

"Where  did  she  come  from,  anyway?  By  God!  It  is 
a  faultless  face.  You  were  right. "  His  eyes  were  riveted 
upon  the  sweet  purity  of  the  young  Diana's  uplifted  coun- 
tenance. Her  broad,  noble  brow  was  lit  with  the  aspira- 
tion of  a  glorious  youth.  In  her  slender  hands  the  roll  of 
music  trembled,  as  with  the  moulded  arms  drooping  before 
her,  she,  with  a  frightened  grace,  answered  the  congratula- 
tions of  the  "upper  circles"  of  the  chosen  city  of  Plutus. 
Golden  hair  in  a  shining  coronal,  robes  of  clinging  white, 
and  only  a  knot  of  roses  on  her  fair  breast,  she  was  a  very 
dream  of  loveliness.  The  original  grace  and  freshness  of 
her  beauty  shone  out  among  the  artistic  triumphs  of  the 
womanly  "make  up"  around  her. 

"Diana,  Hebe,  and  Venus  in  one!  A  St.  Cecilia  with  a 
dreaming  heart,  a  nymph  only  waiting  the  touch  of  love  to 
be  a  Venus  Victrix,"  grandiloquently  whispered  Varick, 
as  he  descended  to  a  practical  answer.  "She  has  been 
educated,  I  am  told,  in  some  institution  here;  she  was  an 
orphan,  I  believe.  The  Hammond  dug  her  up.  She  is 
always  on  the  look-out  for  these  new  lights.  Gladys 
Lyndon  is  a  professional  name,  I  believe,  and  she  turns 


HER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  1*75 

her  eyes  towards  Europe.  They  say  she  is  devoted  to  her 
art,  extremely  reserved,  and  of  a  gentle,  womanly  charac- 
ter. Rare  old  <  trainer '  she  has  there  in  Milly  Hammond. 
I  wonder  where  she  will  land  under  the  Hammond's  tute- 
lage. At  any  rate,  if  she  is  a  walking  mystery,  she  is  a 
most  beautiful  one.      She  has  a  stunning  face. " 

But,Wyman,  a  woman-hunter  by  virtue  of  his  hot  blood 
and  fiery  passions — his  ardent  eyes  following  her  every 
movement — gazed  upon  Gladys  Lyndon,  with  the  eager 
craving  of  a  tiger  for  the  gazelle.  It  was  the  yearning 
for  possession  of  that  bright,  beautiful  woman-nature 
which  flooded  his  throat  with  warm  waves  of  choking  fire, 
his  voice  thrilled  as  he  turned  away,  and  he  clinched  his 
wounded  hand.  •  * '  By  Heavens !  I  will  send  her  over  to 
Europe  myself.  I  will  make  a  prima  donna  of  her,  if  it 
takes  the  whole  '  Lone  Star '  income  for  a  year.  And,  I'll 
grind  up  this  lanky  pettifogger  so  finely  that  he  will  be 
helpless  to  meddle  with  her  future."  The  evident  desire 
of  Varick  to  mingle  in  the  court  of  the  rising  star  led  him 
to  cheerfully  pilot  the  hostess  over  to  the  now  anxious 
Wyman.     And  yet,  he  must  go! 

In  five  minutes  Wyman  was  on  his  way  to  his  rooms. 
He  had  whispered  to  Varick,  "Don't  tell  any  one  that  I 
have  gone  to  Los  Angeles,  and  be  sure  to  be  on  hand,  for 
that  breakfast.  I  want  your  judgment  on  all  those  pic- 
tures." Before  Milly  Hammond  had  recovered  from  her 
thrill  of  delight  at  Wyman's  parting  words,  Varick  had 
told  half  a  dozen  chums  of  Wyman's  southern  tour.  The 
usual  fate  of  secrets!  But,  a  happy  glow  filled  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond's breast,  the  glow  of  radiant  hope. 

"Milly,"  the  young  mining  king  had  impulsively  said, 
"  if  you  will  bring  that  tete-a-tete  breakfast  off  and  make 
me  <  solid '  with  your  young  friend,  you  can  pick  out  the 
handsomest  solitaire  ring  you  can  find  anywhere  in  town.  I 
will  have  it  engraved,  '  For  a  good  girl.'  " 


176  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

"All  right,  Fred!"  she  had  smiled,  "  and,  I'll  earn  it; 
but,  let  me  know  the  very  moment  that  you  return.  You 
must  come  up  here  on  an  afternoon  and  meet  her,  as  if  by 
accident.  I  am  now  keeping  everyone  else  away  from  her 
for  you.     Strong  is  the  only  man." 

"Well,  he  won't  be  very  long  in  my  way,"  remarked 
the  young  Croesus,  with  a  grim  smile,  as  he  left  the  bril- 
liantly lighted  house.  The  fire  companies  were  returning, 
jaded  and  tired,  as  Wyman's  coupe  picked  its  way  down 
town,  and  a  dying  glow,  with  occasional  wind-blown 
sparks,  told  of  the  "effective  work "  of  the  hungry  flames. 

"Yes!  That's  the  very  thing,  a  fire!"  murmured  Wyman. 
But,  even  in  his  preoccupation  of  a  scheme  which  had 
evolved  under  forgotten  Vinnie  Hinton's  "  half  cry  in'  eyes," 
his  heart  throbbed  in  a  mad  new-born  passion,  it  was  born 
of  the  distant  glimpses  of  the  radiant  young  goddess  of 
song.  The  full  tide  of  his  years  poured  like  molten  lava 
through  his  veins,  as  he  thought  again  of  Gladys  Lyndon, 
the  beautiful  meteor  of  a  night.  "I'll  give  Mr.  Waldo 
Strong  something  to  chase  that  face  forever  out  of  his 
mind,"  he  swore,  as  he  registered  a  vow  that  the  girl 
should  go  to  Europe  under  his  tutelage.  « '  And — after — 
after?" 

"Ah!  Money,  enough  of  it,  will  do  anything  in  this 
world,"  he  murmured,  as  he  drew  up  at  his  own  door. 
"By  Jove!  I  ought  to  leave  some  orders  with  Wilder. 
Never  mind,  I  can  telegraph  to  him  from  Truckee,  and," 
as  he  entered  his  private  hallway,  a  dark  form  advanced 
suddenly  to  meet  him. 

"  Hooper! "  exclaimed  Wyman. 

'  *  Quiet !  easy !  old  man.  I  want  a  few  words  with  you. 
Vinnie  told  me  you  were  going  to  leave  town  for  a  few 
days." 

"So  I  am!"  gruffly  replied  Wyman,  who  was  both 
startled  and  annoyed. 


HER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  17  V 

"I  must  have  a  few  private  pointers  from  you,  then, 
about  the  '  Lone  Star,'  "  resolutely  answered  Hooper. 

Wyman  led  the  way  silently  to  his  private  business  con- 
ference room,  and  then,  touching  a  secret  bell,  brought 
Morani  in,  who  telegraphed  by  a  wink,  that  all  was  ready, 
and  Bob  Haley  still  waiting  in  his  agreeable  social  prison. 

" Bring  us  in  some  whisky  and  cigars,  Tony,"  quietly 
remarked  Wyman.  "  Call  me,  then,  in  ten  minutes!  I 
have  just  that  time  to  give  you!  "  said  the  capitalist,  turn- 
ing and  facing  Hooper. 

"Now!  what's  up  with  you?"  roughly  demanded  Wy- 
man, as  he  gazed  at  the  angry  broker.  Time  had  not  dealt 
gently  with  Jim  the  Penman.  Though  prosperous  and 
overdressed,  his  face  was  hardened  in  the  furtive,  hungry 
glare  of  the  professional  gambler.  Stocks  did  not  always 
move  quick  enough  for  him,  and  poker,  with  a  dash  at 
Billy  Briggs'  game  of  "faro,"  of  ten  finished  his  nights  now. 
Piles  of  "blue  chips,"  won  and  lost, never  brought  a  single 
change  of  countenance  to  Hooper.  Drink  had  broadened 
his  once  fine  features,  and  an  uneasy  restlessness  permeated 
his  lost  social  varnish.  The  whole  man  was  hollowed  out 
and  undermined!  It  was  easy  to  see  why  he  only  wore 
Vinnie  Hinton's  collar  now,  instead  of  playing  a  star  en- 
gagement (in  private)  as  Mark  Antony  to  her  Cleopatra. 
Hooper  broke  out  sullenly,  as  soon  as  he  filled  his  glass 
with  a  shaky  hand,  and  Morani  had  dexterously  vanished. 
"  I'm  worried  about  the  'Lone  Star.'  Bowen  leaves  me 
here  all  the  drudgery  of  our  firm.  He  is  banging  around 
up  in  Nevada,  opening  new  mines,  drawing  out  his  money, 
and  leaving  me  to  keep  our  firm's  checks  good,  and  I  am 
worried  enough.  I  tell,  you,  Wyman,  you  ought  not  to 
go  away  now.  This  whole  market  may  break.  There's  a 
giant  fight  going  on,  under  the  rose,  here.  Flood  and 
O'Brien,  for  themselves;  Keene  and  Baldwin  each  tackling 


178  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    SIARIQUITAi 

the  whole  world  alone;  Ralston,  Sharon,  Hay  ward  and 
Jones,  on  the  old  lay;  the  Cooks,  and  God  knows  who 
else.  Some  one  will  surely  go  to  the  wall.  Some  one  will 
either  wind  up  a  fugitive,  be  hauled  up,  or  pass  out!  The 
millionaire  column  may  reverse  itself  any  day.  You  don't 
know  who  is  rich.  I  know  an  old  Irishman  who  can 
hardly  read,  who  carries  to-day  a  million  dollars  of  stocks 
around  in  a  greasy  hat.  Some  one  has  got  to  bust !  "  re- 
marked Hooper  roughly,  as  he  swallowed  a  second  refresher. 
' '  There's  not  gold  coin  enough  in  America  to  keep  these 
three  hundred  millions  of  par  values  of  stocks  moving  on 
the  market." 

"Look  here!  Hooper,"  impatiently  cried  Wyman. 
"  Get  down  to  business!     What  is  all  this  to  me?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  give  me  the  dead  tip  on  'Lone  Star.' 
I  know  that  Wilder  handles  your  controlling  interest  in 
that  mine.  It  may  make  a  difference  of  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars  a  day  to  me.  That  fellow  Strong  will 
break  you,  if  you  abandon  the  market."  Hooper  paused 
with  an  ugly  look  in  his  eye. 

"Let  me  handle  Strong  and  his  gang,"  coldly  answered 
Wyman.      "That's  my  own  business." 

"And,  what  shall  I  do?"  roared  Hooper,  wrathfully, 
rising. 

' '  Cover  all  your  sales  on  '  Lone  Star '  daily,  and  don't 
speculate  in  it.  That's  all.  You'll  get  no  news  from  me. 
Our  joint  account  always  left  'Lone  Star'  out.  Don't 
play  the  'baby  act'  on  that,  now!"  Wyman  was  ir- 
ritated, and  hotly  anxious  to  get  away.  Morani's  knock 
resounded  at  the  door. 

"You  forget  that  I  gave  you  the  title  to  that  mine!  " 
screamed  Hooper,  as  his  face  grew  purple.  His  voice 
died  away  into  a  groan,  as  Wyman,  quick  as  lightning, 
pressed  the  muzzle  of  a  heavy  pistol  against  the  temple  of 
Jim  the  Penman. 


HER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  1*79 

"Damn  you!  Do  you  threaten  me.  I'll  kill  you  like 
a  dog  if  you  breathe*  that  word  again."  When  Wy man 
dropped  his  hand,  he  was  alone,  for  Hooper  had  slunk 
away.      It  was  now  war  ! 

The  angry  millionaire  quickly  double-locked  the  open 
door.  He  did  not  hear  Hooper's  oath,  "  By  Heavens! 
Vinnie  shall  not  go  away  with  him."  He  would  only 
have  laughed,  for  the  days  were  .gone  when  Hooper 
could  dictate  to  the  resolute  free  lance  of  soiled  woman- 
hood. Vinnie  managed  to  carry  herself  along  on  the 
"broad  path"  with  a  reserved  vitality  and  dignity,  which 
placed  her  far  beyond  Hooper's  feeble  efforts  at  domina- 
tion. "Cur  and  blackmailer,  "hissed  Wyman.  "  I  must 
now  hold  on  to  Vinnie,  and  have  her  watch  this  half 
crazed  fellow,  for  he  is  now  dangerous.  His  road  is  a 
short  one,  if  he  don't  pull  up." 

In  twenty  minutes,  muffled  to  the  ears,  Wyman  and 
Haley  watched  the  red  light  on  Oakland  pier,  as  the 
little  tug,  "  Sea  Lion,"  bored  along  over  the  waters  of  the 
silent  bay,  with  an  astonishing  speed.  Haley,  taciturn 
always,  caught  a  glimpse  of  Wyman's  face,  distorted  with 
passion,  as  he  gazed  at  the  line  of  anchored  ships.  Wy- 
man did  not  speak  till  after  they  had  passed  the  low  point 
of  Verba  Buena  Island.  The  chill  air  moved  on  the  fresh 
dark  tide  and  cooled  the  financier's  heated  brain.  His 
half  formed  purpose  crystallized  into  a  heartless  plot  to 
ruin  Strong  and  all  his  adherents,  at  any  cost;  for,  besides 
his  unslaked  revenge,  the  eyes  of  Gladys  Lyndon  seemed 
to  call  him  far  away  from  this  maelstrom  of  speculation 
at  the  Golden  Gate.  Wyman  curtly  said  to  Captain 
Haley,  as  the  tug  neared  the  Oakland  pier: 

"I  do  not  wish  one  single  human  being  to  know  that  I 
have  passed  Truckee.  My  visit  to  Virginia  City  is  a 
secret,"     Haley  bowed,  and  then  raised  his  eyes. 


180  MISS   DEVEREUX   OP   THE   MARIQUITA. 

<< Every  one  knows  you,  though,  in  Nevada." 

"I'll  fix  that,"  answered  Wyman. 

"  He  is  in  some  trouble,"  simply  ruminated  Haley,  who 
had  seen,  without  wonder,  common  miners  become  million- 
aires, and  noted  the  man  who  discovered  three  hundred 
million  of  hidden  treasures  also  reduced  to  "free  drinks," 
and  small  loans.  Nothing  ever  astonished  the  gray-eyed 
foreman.  Life  in  the  West  was  to  him  only  a  startling 
"  lightning-change "  act,  in  which  he  was  an  unmoved, 
passionless  spectator. 

But  dark  thoughts, and  merciless  resolves, filled  Wyman's 
breast,  as  he  sent  a  last  viva  voce  order  to  Vinnie  Hinton, 
by  the  redoubtable  Morani,  who  disappeared  in  the  fog  as 
the  tug  cast  off,  murmuring:  "  He  is  surely  a  devil  of  a 
fellow."  But,  Wyman  had  already  leaped  on  the  waiting 
engine,  and  now  "  No.  69"  was  tearing  along  on  the 
smooth  steel  rails,  like  a  released  red-eyed  demon  of  the 
night.-  Two  coal-tenders  steadied  the  huge  engine,  and 
the  engineer  had  already  grinned  as  Wyman  said,  "Here  is 
five  hundred  dollars  in  gold  notes  if  you  beat  the  record 
to  Truckee."  The  nervy  son  of  Vulcan  sententiously  re- 
marked, "  Don't  put  'em  up  again.     I'll  earn  them  sure." 

Wyman  hardly  turned  his  head,  until  they  had  reached 
Port  Costa.  The  red  flames  of  the  funnel,  as  the  exhaust 
forced  out  the  sparks,  recalled  to  him  the  full  text  of  that 
voluptuous  siren,  Vinnie  Hinton's  story,  "  Fire!  Fire! 
Fire!" 

Gloomily  standing  on  the  transfer  boat  at  Port  Costa, 
in  the  black  night,  Wyman  saw  the  other  shore  crawl 
up  upon  him  as  the  boat  seemed  motionless  on  the  inky 
midnight  waters  of  the  inlet.  His  own  life,  lonely  and 
hidden  from  all,  seemed  thus  to  bring  the  dark  future  up 
to  him  without  effort.  Rich,  young,  cool,  vicious,  des- 
perate, he  had  passed  on  from  a  raw   boy,    and   penniless 


HER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  181 

adventurer,  to  be  a  money  power  in  the  land,  borne  along 
on  silent  tides  of  fortune,  which  had  swept  him  far 
on  beyond  his  first  dark  crimes.  But,  as  in  the  lonely 
tideless  arctic  seas,  in  the  blackness  of  the  six  winter 
months,  the  lonely  mariners  may  drift,  on,  on,  ever 
towards  a  waiting  death,  with  no  land-mark  in  sight, 
moved  by  hidden  currents,  far  below,  so,  Wyman  had 
floated  on  past  every  distant  land-mark  of  human  nature, 
with  no  light  to  guide,  no  beacon  to  steer  by,  on  the  cold 
black  waters  of  his  shadowed  criminal  egoism.  There 
was  no  past  to  lend  him  its  sailing  code,  no  future  lit  up 
with  hope.  Cut  off,  pent  up  with  the  shadows  of  his  early 
crimes,  he  was  only  a  dark  enigma,  drifting,  he  knew  not 
whither! 

As  the  powerful  engine  leaped  away  on  its  racing  run, 
"to  beat  the  record,"  the  moments  seemed  to  crawl, 
though  the  eyes  of  Captain  Bob  Haley  met  Wyman's  in  a 
mute  inquiry  as  to  where  they  would  land  if  they  were 
derailed.  ' '  By  heaven !  I  can  stand  it  if  he  can.  He  is  a  mill- 
ionaire," mused  the  foreman,  as  he  quietly  settled  him- 
self down  to  a  nap.  Haley  regretted  the  safe  pastoral 
conveyance,  the  ox  team,  which  he  had  guided  over  the 
plains  from  < '  St.  Joe, ' '  twenty-five  hundred  miles.  As  the 
huge  mountain  engine,  tore  along,  shrieking  and  yelling 
through  the  little  hamlets  of  the  Sacramento  Valley,  Wy- 
man's uneasy  dreams  were  haunted  by  the  faces  of  his  own 
strange  entourage  in  the  whirlpool  of  life!  Silver-haired 
old  Brown,  the  scribe;  Wilder,  dapper  and  excited,  ever 
craving  new  orders;  rude,  reckless, efflorescent  Andy  Bowen, 
a  blatant  millionaire  "  in  posse;"  sneaking  Hooper  of  the 
unsteady  eye;  Waldo  Strong,  his  now  doubly-hated  enemy 
and  rival,  with  the  ferret-eyed  Morani— and  a  strange 
trinity:  the  ubiquitous  free-lance  Vinnie  Hinton,  the  vel- 
vet-eyed Mrs.  Hammond,  and,  seen  in    the   glow    of  rosy 


182  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA, 

dreams,  a  tall  stately  girl,  bending  in  grace,  with  parted, 
smiling  lips,  laughing  eyes,  and  youth  and  innocence  as 
her  guardian  angels. 

Wyman.  woke  with  a  start  as  the  engine  leaped  over  a 
half  open  switch,  and  murmured  as  the  telegraph  poles 
flew  by  in  a  dizzy  repetition:  "If  I  can  clean  this  thing  up, 
I  will  cut  this  whole  circus  of  knaves  and  fools,  and  finish 
my  business  in  Europe.  It  would  be  just  as  well  to  keep 
out  of  the  way  for  a  couple  of  years." 

The  rising  gray  crags  and  waving  pines  of  Rocklin  gave 
Wyman  twenty  minutes  to  refresh  his  shattered  nerves, 
and  the  telegraph  operator  wondered  at  the  cabalistic 
nonsense  of  several  telegrams,  respectively  addressed  to 
Brown,  the  cashier;  to  Horace  Wilder,  and  to  that  prince 
of  French  valets,  Morani.  ' '  Just  as  well  to  let  Tony 
shadow  Vinnie  and  see  that  she  plays  me  fair,  and  also 
keep  an  eye  on  that  cur,  Hooper,  but,  Vinnie  is  only  a 
law  unto  herself."  It  dawned  upon  Wyman  as  the  engine 
throbbed  up  the  rising  foothills,  that  a  brave,  fearless, 
and,  perhaps,  unforgiving  woman  might  break  up  the 
romance  of  the  golden  future,  wherein  the  ' '  tall  per- 
fect blonde"  was  already  cast  as  "leading  lady."  "I 
will  settle  a  handsome  sum  on  Vinnie,  an  income,  and 
thus,  make  her  dependent  upon  good  behavior.  As  for 
Hooper,  he  will  soon  drink  himself  to  death,  and  thus 
rid  me  of  one  dangerous  nuisance." 

Ever  tearing  along  threatening,  creaky  trestles,  swing- 
ing round  dangerous  curves,  the  giant  mountain  engine 
sped  away  through  the  blackening  night.  Distant  gleams 
of  twinkling  light,  a  thousand  feet  below,  told  Wyman 
of  the  miners'  cabins  below  in  the  terrific  gorges  of  the 
American  River.  The  swaying  pines  wailed  and  soughed 
on  the  lonely  Sierras,  and  a  deeper  darkness  bridged  the 
ravines  where  the  icy  brooks  leaped  down  these  channels 


HER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  183 

below  him.  Darker  blackness  than  the  shadowed  night 
filled  Wyman's  heart.  He  crouched  in  a  corner,  like  a 
beast  at  bay.  ' '  I  must  lose  no  time,  but  how,  when  to 
make  the  break?  Can  I  afford  to  depend  on  Wilder,  on 
luck,  on  every  desperate  chance?  " 

A  worn  and  wearied  man  staggered  off  the  engine  at 
Truckee,  as  the  engineer,  with  a  grim  smile,  claimed  his 
reward  at  four  o'clock  on  the  next  morning.  A  second 
engine  was  already  waiting  on  a  side  switch.  Frederick 
Wynian  smiled  as  the  new  engine-driver  stepped  up  and 
sharply  said:     "All  ready,  sir?" 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  sternly  ordered  Wyman,  as  he  sent 
Bob  Haley  into  the  squalid  bar-room  for  some  bottles  of 
whisky  and  cold  food.  "  Come  out  in  the  round  house 
with  me,"  said  the  capitalist  to  the  man  who  had  beat 
the  record.  They  stood  in  the  dark  shed  where  twenty 
locomotives  were  backed  up  Avaiting  orders.  "Here's 
your  five  hundred  dollars,"  cried  Wyman,  "and  another 
hundred  when  you  get  out  of  those  working  clothes." 
The  burly  engineer  stripped  his  blue  jacket  and  over 
trousers  in  an  instant.  "I  want  the  cap,  too,"  laughed 
Frederick,  the  sly,  as  he  handed  a  ten-dollar  hat  to  the 
astonished  operative. 

"Good-bye  and  good  luck,"  roared  the  engineer. 
"You  will  make  New  York  in  three  days  if  you  keep 
it  up."  But,  Wyman  did  not  hear  him,  he  had  grasped 
a  double  handful  of  the  hanging  soot  from  the  walls  and 
washed  his  face  with  the  floating  carbon  dust.  Captain 
Bob  Haley  yelled,  "Wrhere's  Wyman,"  as  he  jumped  on 
the  fresh  engine  in  answer  to  his  unseen  master's  voice. 

"Silence!  "  roared  the  capitalist,  who  was  at  his  side, 
now  a  typical  fireman,  and  Haley  deposited  his  bottles 
and  parcels  in  a  grim  silence,  as  he  sat  down  on  a  box 
thrown  into  the  caboose.      "He  is  a  slick  one.     No  one 


184  MISS   DEVEEEUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

would  ever  recognize  him! "  mused  the  wary  foreman,  who 
was  now  disturbed  at  heart.  "Some  scheme,  some  queer 
game,"  he  muttered,  and  did  not  speak  till  the  strained 
locomotive  snorted  around  the  base  of  Mount  Davidson 
at  eleven  o'clock  on  a  sunny  morning.  The  track  was 
clear,  and,  at  a  signal,  the  engineer  halted  at  the  head  of  a 
long  switch  a  half  mile  below  Virginia  City. 

The  smokestack  of  the  "Lone  Star  "  mill  could  be  seen 
six  hundred  yards  down  the  gully.  The  engine  driver's 
eyes  met  Wyman's  in  a  look  of  mute  understanding,  a  last 
pledge.  Haley  never  knew  that  a  simple  card  in  his 
pocket  bore  an  address  where  a  thousand  dollars  waited 
a  still-tongued  man,  a  month  later,  in  San  Francisco.  It 
was  a  mystery  of  later  years  to  the  foreman  how  engine 
No.  236  was  side-tracked,  with  fires  banked,  on  mysterious 
orders  at  Gold  Hill,  to  await  the  departure  of  a  "gentle- 
man tired  of  mountain  life. "  But,  honest  Captain  Bob 
never  learned  the  whole  story. 

"Let  us  walk  down  the  canon.  I  wish  no  one  to  see 
me,"  sharply  cried  Wyman,  as  he  plunged  down  the  bank, 
and  the  engine  backed  away  around  the  curve.  Sullen 
and  annoyed  was  Captain  Bob  as  he  unlocked  the  door  of 
his  private  office  at  the  mine  and  faced  his  employer.  The 
little  den  was  hidden  out  of  the  way,  where  the  noise 
of  the  works  and  the  rude  frolic  of  the  men's  boarding- 
house  would  not  break  in  upon  the  dignity  of  the  foreman. 
Wyman  had  in  his  hand  only  a  light  traveling  bag,  and  he 
gazed  earnestly  at  his  watch,  as  he  faced  Haley.  "  I  wish 
to  go  alone  into  the  mine  and  go  down  to  the  lower  level, 
when  the  shift  changes  after  dinner.  I  will  then  spend 
the  afternoon  in  this  rig.  No  one  will  know  me."  Wy- 
man smiled.  "Now,  you  can  show  yourself  around  a  few 
minutes,  I  will  go  into  the  old  tunnel,  and  ring  the  bell  at 
the  200-foot  station.     Let  the  engineer  send  you  down 


HER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  185 

alone,  and  you  can  wait  for  me  there.  Not  a  soul  in  Vir- 
ginia must  know  of  my  visit!  " 

There  were  a  thousand  idle  conjectures  in  Haley's  mind, 
as  he  wandered  away  to  the  hoisting  works  alone.  "He 
always  was  a  queer,  silent  fellow.  I  suppose  that  he  is 
uneasy  about  the  ore,  and  wants  to  see  it  for  himself. "  The 
foreman  knew  that  Wyman,  from  his  private  map  and 
weekly  corrected  plan  of  the  mine,  knew  every  single 
cranny  of  the  workings.  Even  he  did  not  know  that  Wy- 
man had  resolutely  worked  away  from  the  richest  ore 
toward  the  south  from  the  main  shaft,  and  left  unexplored 
grounds  to  cut  off  all  connection  with  the  barren  grounds 
of  the  Hooper,  Bowen  &  Co.  false  leads,  long  since  left 
"  in  statu  quo" —  permanent  investments.  "  We  ought  to 
look  at  the  best  place  for  a  connection  with  the  other 
mines  of  the  lead,  by-and-by,  to-day,"  Haley  had  said,  as 
he  slumped  away.  "  All  right  I  will  think  it  over,"  was 
the  stern  employer's  rejoinder. 

It  was  a  half  hour  later  when  Haley  stepped  out  of  the 
cage  at  the  200-foot  level,  saw  Wyman,  still  disguised, 
with  an  old  slouch  hat,  caught  up  at  the  office,  pressed 
down  over  his  brows.  A  twinkling  miner's  candle  in  the 
millionaire's  hand  gleamed  fitfully  in  the  darkness. 

"Have  you  light  enough?"  said  Captain  Bob. 

"  Oh,  plenty!  All  I  want,"  answered  Wyman,  as 
Haley  stepped  to  his  side  and  sent  the  cage  up.  The  two 
men  were  alone  in  the  bowels  of  the  gold- seamed  rocks, 
where  silver  ledges  twisted  their  deceitful  way  through 
the  porphyry  and  granite. 

"Haley,"  said  Wyman  suddenly  in  a  smothered  voice, 
"I  have  forgotten  something.  I  dare  not  show  myself 
here.  I  ordered  Wilder  to  send  me  some  cipher  dispatches 
with  to-day's  morning  board  sales,  at  Gold  Hill.  I  forgot 
that.     We  ran  through  there  so  quickly.     Take  your  own 


186  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

horse  and  drive  down  there,  and  wait  at  the  office  till  you 
get  them.  I  told  Wilder  to  address  them  to  you.  I  will 
wait  for  you  at  your  office.  Give  me  the  key.  Don't 
come  back  without  those  dispatches.  Wait  till  you  get 
them,  for  I  must  answer  them,  and  then  go  back  at  mid- 
night, or  before  morning.  I  can  easily  get  an  engine  here 
any  time." 

<  <  All  right, "  cried  the  sturdy  miner,  as  he  groped  his 
way  out  of  the  mine  alone,  along  the  tunnel.  He  turned 
and  gazed  at  Wyman  standing  there  as  motionless  as  a 
bronze  statue,  waiting  there  with  the  trembling  light  in 
his  hand.  "Look  out  for  yourself!"  cried  Haley,  forget- 
ting that  Wyman  knew  every  foot  of  the  mine  by  the 
knowledge  gained  in  his  monthly  visits. 

"I'm  all  right.  Go  on,"  answered  the  owner  of  the 
"Lone  Star,"  whose  voice  echoed  strangely  in  the  dripping 
tunnel,  as  gruesome  as  a  cave  of  death. 

Captain  Haley  was  strangely  disturbed  as  he  drove  down 
alone  to  the  Gold  Hill  and  waited  several  hours  at  the  tel- 
egraph office  for  the  dispatches  which  finally  began  to  click 
over  the  wire.  "  I  ought  not  to  be  so  long  away  from  the 
mine,"  uneasily  thought  the  man  who  loved  the  "Lone 
Star"  as  the  growing  triumph  of  his  own  practical  skill. 
He  had  set  the  thousands  of  timbered  frames  in  the  shafts 
and  galleries,  where  they  creaked  under  the  weight  of  the 
slowly  shifting  rocks. 

Another  uneasy  man  was  the  hoisting  engineer,  who  had 
run  the  great  reel  around  twice  in  answer  to  signals  from 
below  and  then  the  stage  returned  to  the  surface  with  no 
one  in  it !  But,  a  dark-faced  man,  with  a  slouched  hat  pulled 
down  over  his  eyes,  had  stolen  out  of  the  tunnel  unobserved 
and  fled  away;  an  empty  hand  satchel  was  in  his  grasp! 
He  cast  it  carelessly  down  an  old  shaft  !  There  was  a 
strange  odor  of  benzine  on  this  man's  hands,  which  same 


HER    FAULTLESS    FACE.  18 Y 

odor  clung  to  all  the  timbering  of  the  main  shaft  as  that 
empty  cage  returned  to  the  surface.  A  miner  toiling  far 
down  in  the  bottom  of  the  shaft  looked  up  in  astonishment 
to  the  hole  nine  hundred  feet  over  him,  where  a  square  patch 
of  light  glimmered,  as  a  sponge  fell  at  his  feet.  Then,  a 
wild,  crazed  yell  resounded,  as  twenty-eight  men  fought  for 
their  lives  to  reach  the  hoisting  c<tge.  Alas!  only  a  raging, 
crackling  sea  of  flame  leaped  up  to  the  surface,  as  the 
engineer  above  rang  the  alarm  bell,  and  its  mad  clangor 
told  the  whole  Comstock  of  a  fire,  which  soon  made  the 
"Lone  Star"  shaft  only  a  blazing  tomb  for  the  impris- 
oned men  below!. 

"Here's  your  dispatches  at  last!"  said  the  operator  at 
Gold  Hill,  as  Bob  Haley,  worn  out  with  waiting,  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  thrust  the  yellow  envelopes  in  his  jacket. 
His  horse  pawed  at  the  door.  "  Hold  on,  Bob,"  cried 
the  operator  suddenly,  with  a  frightened  face.  "  This  just 
came  over.  'Send  help.  "Lone  Star"  shaft  on  fire. 
Twenty-eight  men  caught  below.'  " 

Haley's  horse  dropped  dead  a  half  hour  later,  as  he  lashed 
the  beast  down  the  runway  to  his  office.  A  mad  mob  was 
raging  already  around  the  hoisting  works.  He  ran  to  his 
office  door.  Locked!  With  one  vigorous  kick  he  burst 
in  the  door.  His  old  slouched  hat  lay  on  the  table.  In  it 
a  card,  "Gone,  2:15;  will  telegraph."  And,  the  gray- eyed 
foreman  dropped  his  head  on  his  hands  and  burst  into 
tears.  "My  poor  men.  I  was  not  here,  and,  now  I  can't 
get  orders  from  Wyman." 


188  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  Vanished  Goddess. 

Captain  Haley  was  the  very  picture  of  gloomy  despair, 
as  he  sat,  late  that  night,  in  his  office,  surrounded  by  a 
dozen  foremen  of  the  leading  Comstock  mines.  They  were 
all  resolute,  manly  fellows,  Avho  sorrowed  for  their  brawny 
comrades  at  last  abandoned  to  their  fate.  A  gloomy 
crowd  still  loitered  round  the  "Lone  Star"  hoisting  works,' 
although  the  mine  was  now  tightly  sealed.  It  was,  alas! 
the  only  way  to  prevent  the  destruction  of  the  final 
compartment  shaft.  The  men  had  been  caught  like 
caged  rats  there  far  below  the  flames,  which  had  spread 
up  and  down  with  lightning  rapidity,  running  along 
the  greased  guides.  Stalwart  Cornishmen,  keen-eyed 
Americans,  resolute  Irishmen,  turned  away,  sickened  at 
heart,  as  they  left  the  place  of  the  disaster  with  bitter 
sighs.  It  was  the  revenge  of  the  gnomes.  As  for  the 
sympathizing  miners,  those  fearless  toilers  in  the  service 
of  King  Plutus,  it  was  only  "Hodie  mihi,  eras  tibi,"  with 
them.  The  same  gloomy  death  might  overtake  them  all 
at  any  time! 

"Damn  this  mean-hearted  scoundrel  Wyman's  economy! 
The  shaft  should  have  been  connected  by  a  gallery  with  the 
other  mines  for  safety,"  said  a  stern  leader  of  the  Miners' 
Union.  "We'll  see  about  that,  before  another  single  man 
goes  down.     If  he  was  here,  he  ought  to  be  lynched." 

At  that  very  moment,  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  breathed 
more  freely,  as  his  special  engine  dashed  away  and  left 
Truckee,  the  scene  of  Jim  the  Penman's  neat  touches,  far 


A    VANISHED    GODDESS.  189 

behind.  "Thank  God,"  cried  Wynian,  now  restored  to 
his  proper  dress,  "I  am  well  over  the  California  line.  I 
am  now  safe. "  He  had  already  dispatched  to  Wilder  to 
meet  him  at  Alvarado  at  daylight.  < '  I  will  not  go  np  to 
Virginia  City  again,  till  this  thing  has  all  blown  over," 
mused  the  man  who  had  deliberately  held  his  candle  to  the 
benzine  drippings  at  the  mouth  of  the  100-foot  level, with- 
out a  pitying  thought  of  the  men  cooped  up  below,  whom 
he  sent  to  a  horrible  death.  < '  It  was  a  lucky  idea,  and  Vin- 
nie  is  a  trump, "  he  mused.  '  <  I  wonder  how  far  the  stock  will 
break.  Mr.  Waldo  Strong,  you  are  now  laid  out  for  good!" 
The  cowardly,  murderous  hand  shook  as  he  took  a  pull  at 
his  great  traveling  flask.  It  was  emptied  long  before  he 
reached  Rocklin  in  the  ' '  wee  snia'  hours. " 

' '  See  here,  Haley,  cheer  up ;  pull  yourself  together. 
You  are  the  one  man  in  the  gap,"  cried  Superintendent 
Hank  Wetherbee,  as  the  foremen  in  council  decided  that 
at  present  nothing  could  be  done  but  to  keep  the  shaft 
sealed.    "  Where's  Wyman?    Have  you  heard  from  him?  " 

Haley's  breast  heaved  convulsively.  "  I  never  killed  a 
man  before,"  he  groaned.  "  That  is,  in  a  mine,"  he  added, 
apologetically.  For,  he  regarded  his  little  homicidal  ex- 
ploits on  the  surface  as  only  "  necessary  removals. "  They 
were,  in  fact,  merely  "  survivals  of  the  quickest,"  a  prac- 
tical Western  proof  that  "delays  are  dangerous."  And 
then,  lifting  up  his  head  in  the  rough  code  of  loyalty  to  his 
employer,he  lied  for  the  first  time  to  his  fellows.  "I  don't 
know  where  Wyman  is.  I've  sent  several  telegraphs  down 
for  orders. "  For  he  had  to  keep  his  master's  business  secrets ! 

"This  news  will  break  the  stock  down  to  nothing,"  said 
a  cautious  foreman,  who  speculated  a  bit.  Haley  handed 
around  a  recently  received  telegram  from  Wilder.  "Re- 
port extent  of  damage  at  once.  Stock  dropped  from  a  hun- 
dred down  to    three  dollars!     News  here  that   everything 


190  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

is  destroyed.  Answer  to  me.  Wyman  not  here. — Horace 
Wilder." 

1 '  What  did  you  do  ?"  queried  one  of  the  readers.  Haley's 
face  twitched. 

''I  answered:  'Find  Wyman.  Associated  Press  news 
is  correct.'     I  did  not  dare  say  more." 

" That's  right!  That  was  very  prudent!"  answered  a 
chorus,  and  the  conclave  sadly  broke  up,  several  of  the 
warm-hearted  fellows  agreeing  to  remain  with  Bob  Haley, 
who  made  half-hourly  trips  to  the  shaft,  a  useless  kindly 
solicitude. 

"Keep  cool,  old  fellow!  "said  a  veteran  miner.  "It 
will  take  a  week  before  you  can  open  the  mine,  and,  Wyman 
will  surely  be  up  here  long  before  then." 

"I  don't  know,"  gloomily  answered  the  dejected  Haley, 
who  sullenly  rose  and  paced  the  porch  of  the  little  office 
house,  alone  under  the  stars. 

"  This  thing  may  ruin  Mr.  Wyman,"  said  his  friend,  as 
Haley  passed  out  of  the  door.  ' '  It  has  broken  the  stock 
down  to  nothing,  you  see!"  Haley  started,  but  held  his 
own  counsel.  That  one  chance  remark  dispelled  a  vague 
hellish  doubt  of  Wyman's  secret  purpose  in  the  visit. 

1  'Yes,  Yes !  It  may  be  total  ruin  to  him.  It  is  an  enormous 
loss  as  it  is!  The  mine  will  be  shut  down  for  a  long  while!" 

Bob  Haley  crumpled  a  letter  in  his  hand  and  stole  away 
into  a  corner  of  the  porch  where  the  light  streamed  out 
from  the  curtainless  window,  and  then  read  it  over  again 
with  care.  It  was  only  a  hasty  scrawl,  from  the  strangely 
disappearing  Wyman:  "Just  got  a  later  message  in  cipher, 
sent  to  you  here  by  my  orders.  I  had  told  Wilder  to  dis- 
patch any  important  news.  Big  stock  panic  feared  in  San 
Francisco.  Will  telegraph  you  from  Truckee,  and  send  all 
other  orders  from  'Frisco.  Can  get  an  engine  at  Gold  Hill. 
I  left  you  a  card.     Burn  this.     W — " 


A   VANISHED    GODDESS.  191 

<  <  Yes !  It  is  al  1  straight, "  mused  Haley.  He  was  very  well 
aware  that  he  knew  only  a  tithe  of  his  saturnine  employer's 
many  secrets.  "  I  suppose  he  told  Wilder  how  to  have  the 
messenger  find  him.  It  is  very  lucky  that  he  got  away  un- 
seen. The  boys  would  have  lynched  him;  by  God,  they 
would!  He  will  reach  San  Francisco  at  daybreak.  This 
may  ruin  him  now."  And  with  a  clearer  brow,  Haley- 
re-entered  his  office,  and  then  wrote  two  dispatches.  One 
in  cipher,  giving  the  details  and  asking  for  orders,  he  ad- 
dressed to  his  master,  Wyman;  the  other  was  a  "tracer" 
to  Tony , Morani,  whom,  he  well  knew,  always  "held 
the  fort,"  in  Wyman's  absence.  Wyman  suffered  and 
yet  doubted  Tony.  The  millionaire  often  laughed,  "  I 
am  now  well  used  to  Tony's  little  thefts  and,  he 
likes  to  read  all  my  letters.  If  I  leave  any  one  else  behind, 
or  send  him  away,  there  may  be  some  'outside  leakage.' 
Tony  is  too  well  paid  to  give  me  away.  He  only  amuses 
himself  with  these  little  tricks;    and  he  is  silent." 

At  ten  o'clock  the  next  day,  after  a  sleepless  night,  Cap- 
tain Haley  was  sadly  baffied  when  he  received  Morani's 
answer:  "  Mr.  Wyman  is  away  in  the  country.  Cannot 
deliver  dispatches.     You  must  wait  his  return." 

An  hour  later,  Haley  and  his  friendly  council  read 
Wyman's  explicit  orders,  dated  at  Oakland,  California. 
'  <  See  the  news  of  the  fire  in  all  the  morning  papers.  Keep 
the  shaft  sealed.  Pay  off  the  men.  Come  to  San  Fran- 
cisco as  soon  as  it  is  safe  to  leave  the  mine.  Stop  all  work. 
Send  all  dispatches  to  Wilder." 

"  It  is  strange,  very  strange!  "  mused  the  foreman,  who 
went  silently  about  his  new  duties  with  a  heavy  heart. 
The  object  of  Wyman's  secret  trip  was  still  a  mystery, 
but,  it  was  not  his  business. 

The  driver  of  Wyman's  special  engine  was  sullen,  when, 
under  the  gray  coming  glow  of  dawn,  he  ran   down   to 


192  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

the  head  of  the  long  mole  at  Oakland,  where  the  one  pas- 
senger on  the  engine  would  naturally  take  the  boat  to 
San  Francisco.  When  on  the  side  switch,  he  waited  for 
orders,  the  man  whose  hands  were  tired  with  holding  on 
to  his-throttle-bar  all  night  revolted,  as  Wyman  said: 

1 '  Signal  to  the  train  dispatcher.  I  want  you  to  run  me 
down  to  Alvarado,  if  the  line  is  clear." 

"I  will  not! "  stubbornly  cried  the  angry  man.  "lam 
worn  out!-"  Wyman  brought  his  hands  up  out  of  his 
pocket,  filled  with  great  double  eagles,  the  cumbrous 
twenty-dollar  gold  pieces.  The  man's  scowling  face  re- 
laxed in  a  smile.  "Well,  of  course,  if  you'll  do  the 
right  thing,"  he  began.     Wyman  laughed. 

"  Go  ahead,  now,  and  do  your  very  slickest.  There  is 
a  lady  waiting  there  for  news  of  the  loved  and  absent." 

There  was  no  sour  look  on  the  face  of  the  grimy  engine- 
driver  as  Wyman  lightly  leaped  from  the  cab,  two  hours 
later,  before  the  quaint  old  hostelry  at  Alvarado.  A  man 
in  waiting  grasped  Wyman  by  both  hands,  as  the  sun 
leaped  over  the  rich  hills  of  Livermore  valley. 

"Thank  God,  you  are  here,  Wyman!"  stammered 
Wilder, who  showed  all  the  effects  of  a  sleepless  night.  "  I 
must  get  over  to  the  'First  Call'  The  town  is  mad,  the 
market  is  crazy ;  all  sorts  of  disasters  are  feared, and  no  man's 
credit  is  safe."  Wyman's  lip  curled  with  a  triumphant 
smile,  as  he  leaned  over  and  whispered  a  word. 

"Yes,  she  is  here  all  right.  Go  right  up!"  The 
broker  smiled. 

"  Say,  Horace,  get  a  box  of  good  cigars  and  a  bottle 
of  brandy  for  this  game  engine-driver.  He's  had  no  break- 
fast.    I'll  wait  for  you  on  the  porch." 

As  the  anxious  broker  hurried  away,  the  tired  capitalist 
entered  the  quaint  garden  of  the  old  hotel,  where  dreamy 
quiet,  superb   wines   and  noted  game  dinners   offered  in- 


A   VANISHED    GODDESS.  193 

ducements  to  the  "initiated,"  for  these  little  "parties 
a  deux"  of  the  swells,  who  shone  in  the  gilded  sham  of 
San  Francisco's  gay  life.  The  unscrupulous  Boniface 
only  thought  of  his  bill,  and,  never  remembered  either 
dates  or  faces.  This  peculiar  listlessness  gratified  the 
fierce-hearted  fugitives  of  love  who  always  cast  aside  all 
fear  and  restraint  in  this  welcome  haven.  The  piano 
in  the  curtained  parlors  had  often  sent  out  witching  melo- 
dies of  passion  under  fair  jeweled  fingers,  ostensibly  busied 
elsewhere.  But,  the  listening  roses  nodded  silently  under 
these  naughty  secrets,  and  all  the  world  kept  each  other's 
counsel  in  the  laughing  recontres,  which  often  brought  a 
smile  to  trembling  lips. 

Wyman  broke  off  a  budding  rose  and  tossed  it  up  to  a  half - 
opened  window,  as  a  face  which  he  had  never  found  so 
fair,  beamed  down  on  him.  It  was  Vinnie  Hinton,  as 
fresh  as  the  very  roses  bending  there  in  the  'golden  morn- 
ing sunlight,  the  blossoms  of  whose  fragrance  drew  bird 
and  bee  to  their  honeyed  bosoms.     So,  she  was  true! 

"Well,  Horace,"  said  Wyman,  as  he  drew  up  a  huge 
arm  chair,  at  the  farthest  angle  of  the  old  porch,  and 
listened  to  the  clink  of  the  silver  spoon,  as  the  eager  bar- 
keeper made  two  special  "  bonanza  "  cocktails,  "What  is 
the  news?"  The  broker  handed  to  his  chief  the  half 
dozen  morning  papers  he  had  caught  up  on  his  trip  over 
the  Bay,  on  the  press  tug,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

' '  They  will  keep !  "  muttered  Wyman,  conscious  that 
the  broker  was  eying  him  very  closely,  * '  Tell  me  your 
own  news?"  Wyman's  eager  voice  trembled.  He  longed 
to  be  alone  with  the  frail  woman,  whom  he  had  trusted, 
when  doubtful  of  all  besides.  A  boy  hovered  at  a  dis- 
tance, with  some  fatuous  remarks  about  < '  breakfast  wait- 
ing, upstairs,  with  the  lady."  Wyman  tossed  a  five-dollar 
gold  piece  to  the  imp,  who  vanished. 


194  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"Mr.  Waldo  Strong  is  busted,  flat  busted,"  gaily  said 
Wilder,  as  he  lit  a  cigar,  <  <  flatter  than  a  flounder,  and  all 
his  gang,  too."  Wyman  drew  a  long  breath,  and  drained 
his  cocktail,  as  the  barkeeper  nodded  a  salutation  to  one 
of  his  best  customers. 

"That's  good,"  sententiously  remarked  Wyman,  who 
now,  saw  a  new  glory  in  the  peaceful,  sparkling  morn.  It 
seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  left  all  cares  and  sorrows  be- 
hind in  the  forest  arches  of  the  Sierras,  where  wailing 
night  winds  behind  him  had  whispered,  "Murder!  Mur- 
der! "  as  the  locomotive  dashed  down  the  slopes  into  the 
Sacramento  Valley.  Wyman  had  hardly  closed  his  eyes 
in  that  mad  race  down  past  the  yawning  chasms  of  the 
American  River,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  now  entered 
into  another  world.  For  above  him  there,  a  rich  voice  was 
caroling  out  a  song  he  loved,  and  as  he  closed  his  eyes, 
in  a  delightful  day-dream,  he  also  thought  of  that  little 
breakfast  under  the  tutelage  of  the  velvet-eyed  Hammond, 
where  the  sapphire  eyes  of  the  "  tall  perfect  blonde  "  would 
beam  into  his  own. 

"That  fool  is  at  last  out  of  the  way,"  growled  Wyman 
and  he  became  again  the  alert  child  of  Midas,  as  he 
abruptly  said,  "How  do  your  books  stand?  How  do  we 
come  out  on  the  <  Lone  Star '  ?  "  Wilder  drew  out  a  long 
slip,  and  handed  it  to  his  chief. 

"There  you  are!  We  cover  in  all  our  shorts,  and  you 
have  got  back  about  forty  thousand  shares  of  the  stock 
that  was  out.  It  gives  you  eighty  thousand  of  the  hun- 
dred thousand."  The  broker  glanced  at  his  watch.  "I 
must  get  away.  I  want  to  collect  every  check  before 
noon.  There'll  be  a  lot  of  failures  to-day!  A  great  crash 
is  feared." 

"  All  right,"  said  Wyman,  his  eye  gleaming  in  triumph. 
"You  rake  in  anyway  about  twenty  thousand  dollars 
commissions,  my  boy. " 


A   VANISHED    GODDESS.  .  195 

"  Yes,  and  a  couple  of  hundred  thousand  profit  in  the 
week's  work!  T^he  disaster  to  the  'Lone  Star  '  carried  all 
stocks  down  about  five  points,  and  I  cleared  up  all  my 
outstanding  contracts."  Wyman  breathed  freely,  as  his 
subordinate  spoke  so  lightly  of  the  sensation  of  the  day 
before.  It  gave  him  the  key-note  for  their  future  conver- 
sations. 

"  I  have  not  slept  for  thirty-six  hours,"  quickly  said  the 
man  who  had  so  coldly  ruined  his  foes  and  cleared  three- 
quarters  of  a  million  of  dollars,  for  his  own  account  was 
now  four  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  coin,  ahead. 

Scrawling  a  few  words  to  Brown,  the  cashier,  Wyman 
rose.  "Horace!"  he  said,  "I'll  send  you  over  some  tele- 
grams this  afternoon.  Report  every  hour  to-day,  by  wire, 
and  come  over  here  on  the  ten  o'clock  train.     We'll  make 

a  night  of  it.     Bring ,"  and  he  whispered   a  name 

which  made  the  broker  laugh,  as  he  called  for  his  buggy 
to  take  him  down  to  the  station.  "Stay!"  said  Wyman, 
"Tell  Brown  not  to  lose  a  moment  in  taking  all  my  stocks 
out  of  the  bank.  I  am  at  last  out  of  their  clutches,  and  I 
think  I'll  watch  this  coming  racket  you  speak  of,  from  a 
distance,  and  then,  go  to  Europ  efor  a  year  or  so;"  for 
Wilder  had  told  of  a  coming  day  of  wrath,  sweeping  down 
on  Pine  street,  and  doomed  California  street,  in  particular. 

"Let  her  sweep!"  was  his  light  rejoinder.  "  I'll  assess 
the  'Lone  Star,'  rebuild  the  shaft,  and  run  the  mine  closer 
now.  I  will  keep  the  public  out;"  for,  with  the  whole 
stock  swept  back  at  a  nominal  price  into  his  hands  he  could 
now  open  up  the  withheld  rich  deposits  to  the  north  which 
he  had  kept  for  his  own  benefit.  .  His  happiness  was  com- 
plete.    He  was  unsuspected. 

"  It  has  been  a  great  deal!  "  hesmiled,  as  he  saw  Wilder 
drive  away,  and  then,  springing  up  the  stairs,  he  was  clasped 
in  a  moment,  in  the  opened  arms  of  the  pouting  but  de- 
lighted Vinnie  Hinton, 


196  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"  So,  sir!  "  she  smiled,  with  dreaming  eyes.  "  I  thought 
you  were  growing  fast,  like  one  of  these  old  oaks  down 
there  in  the  garden."  She  laughed.  Wynian  strained  her 
to  his  breast,  but  with  a  revulsion  of  his  over-tired  nerves, be- 
fore a  half  hour,  the  victorious  scoundrel  slept  under  her 
eyes,  while  the  witching  adventuress  watched  the  twitch- 
ing of  his  handsome  face.  He  had  trusted  her  in  all,  and 
yet,  Mr.  Horace  Wilder  had  privately  murmured  to  the 
strange-hearted  queen  of  light  loves:  "  He  is  the  black- 
est-hearted scoundrel  in  the  whole  world,  and  hanging  is  too 
good  for  him!"  These  eyes  had  met  over  their  wine,  for 
both  suspected,  what  the  sleeper  alone  knew,  that  a  whole- 
sale murder  rested  now  on  the  stained  soul  of  * '  one  of 
Nature's  noblemen." 

Seated  on  the  upper  veranda,  shaded  by  the  climbing 
prairie  roses  of  the  old  fashioned  hostelry,  Vinnie  Hinton 
glanced  over  the  journals  which  Wyman  had  tossed  on  the 
table.  "  He  is  a  rare  scoundrel,"  the  adventuress  mused, 
as  she  ran  over  the  columns  detailing  the  great  disaster, 
"  but  if  he  acted  on  my  story,  about  the  '  War  Hawk,'  how 
could  he  manage  to  deceive  a  man  like  Bob  Haley?  Did 
that  man  sell  his  brother  miners  to  death?  Never!  "  indig- 
nantly protested  the  gay  wanton,  as  she  paced  the  long 
veranda;  and,  with  a  last  pang  of  regret  for  her  girlish 
days  of  honesty,  she  remembered  Captain  Haley's  uniform 
courtesy  and  grave  kindness  on  his  past  visits.  "  He  is  a 
simple  fellow,  brave  and  honest.  I  wonder  if  he  really 
takes  me  for  a  lady.  My  God!  "  There  was  a  bitter  taste 
in  the  little  morning"  nip  "  she  took  to  steady  her  nerves, 
for  Wyman ,  now  struggling  with  the  demons  of  unceasing 
remorse  in  his  sleep,  shrieked  and  started  wildly  up. 

<  'Ah !  Coward ,  as  well  as  scoundrel ! "  thought  Vinnie.  ' '  If 
I  must  tie  myself  to  a  scoundrel,  I  do  not  wish  one  who  is 
also  a  coward."     And,  as  she  approached  the  sleeper,  who 


A    VANISHED    GODDESS.  197 

displayed  a  sickly  smile  of  nervous  recovery,  Vinnie  mur- 
mured to  herself:  "Jim  Hooper  is  true,  poor  fool!  He  loves 
me  with  the  unthinking  slavery  of  a  dog,  asking  only  what 
return  I  may  choose  to  give.  Scoundrel,  but  no  coward, 
and  yet,  his  manhood  is  daily  drowned  in  the  bottle.  This 
fellow  will  some  day  surely  overreach  himself,  and  as  for 
poor  Jim,  he  too,  will  make  some  'awful  break.'" 

"  Where  shall  I  drift  to  at  last,  into  the  hands  of 
Wilder?  "  She  smiled  bitterly,  for  the  broker  had  been 
prone  at  her  feet  in  the  darkened  hours.  "  No,  he  is  only  a 
human  butterfly.  The  first  pin  will  nail  him  to  a  wall. 
Besides,  a  turn  of  the  market  may  leave  him  stranded 
to  toil  as  a  clerk  to  one  of  his  own  promoted  clerks." 
And,  with  a  strange  premonition  of  the  dark  days 
to  come,  she  glanced  at  the  mirror  to  see  if  the  "half 
cryin'  eyes"  had  lost  their  charm.  I  must  change  my  base 
soon,"  she  quickly  decided.  "This  mushroom  financial 
system  will  go  soon,  all  to — smithereens."  She  laughed,  as 
she  reflected  she  did  not  exactly  know  the  fineness  of 
"  smithereens,"  but,  from  the  men  she  knew,  the  pace  they 
made,  the  queen  o'  light  loves  fancied  that  many  "heavy 
operators ' '  would  soon  drop  through  the  ' '  thin  ice  "  they 
skated  on.  For,  in  the  free  association  of  her  life,  "half 
within  the  door,"  the  men  who  used  her  as  a  plaything,  as 
an  antidote  against  the  "  blue  devils,"  talked  most  freely 
in  her  presence.  She  knew  they  all  feared  the  "  showing 
up"  day,  and  her  invariable  reply  to  her  "moneyed" 
adorers,  when  the  economical  fit  touched  them,  was  that 
"  a  millionaire  without  money  was  a  sickening  object  to 
behold!  "  Yet,  there  were  many  now,  who  bravely  wore 
the  toga,  covering  very  depleted  exchequers.  A  single 
panic,  and  then,  the  crash! 

"Vinnie!"  seriously  said  Wyman,  as  he  struggled  to 
his  feet,  "I  want  you  to  do  me  a  good  turn."     He  paced 


198  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

the  room  in  deep  thought.  ' '  I  will  take  you  out  for  a 
nice  ride  this  morning.  I  will  leave  you  where  you  can 
get  the  afternoon  express.  Run  over  to  town  so  you  can 
stir  around  among  your  own  friends,  the  old  boys,  you 
know.  See  Morani,  too.  Pick  up  what  gossip  you  can, 
and,  come  over  for  breakfast  to-morrow.  Find  out  all 
about  the  '  Lone  Star '  deal,  about  what  is  said  on  the 
street  of  me.  Trace  up  Walter  Strong  and  his  party. 
Then,  to-morrow,  we'll  rundown  to  San  Jose,  and  later  re- 
turn to  town  in  style  on  the  other  side  of  the  Bay.  Now 
there's  a  good  girl.  Stand  by  me  and  I'll  stand  by  you!  " 
He  drew  her  down  to  his  knee,  as  the  quick-witted  woman 
saw  he  would  fain  send  her  out  a  bright-plumaged  dove 
on  the  surface  of  the  troubled  financial  waters.  He  was 
afraid.  "  You  see,"  he  stammered,  "I  want  to  keep  out 
of  the  way  for  a  few  days.  Wilder  is  coming  over  to- 
night, and, we  have  a  whole  lot  of  business."  He  read  the 
half -veiled  scorn  in  her  eyes,  for  Vinnie  Hinton  justified 
her  occasional  boast  "in  vino  Veritas,"  that  she  feared 
neither  i(  God,  man  nor  the  devil." 

It  was  true,  in  a  certain  sense,  for  she  was  a  queen  of 
that  class  of  women  who  break  through  all  canting  rules 
from  the  mere  overplus  of  a  passionate,  overvitalized, 
sensuous  nature.  No  man  had  ever  fathomed  the  whole 
story  of  her  life.  No  man  knew  that  she  had  delib- 
erately cast  herself  away,  determined  to  drink  of  all  the 
pleasures,  which  she  knew  were  as  easily  within  her  own 
reach  as  those  whom,  in  her  girlish  days,  she  saw  raise  the 
rosy  cup,  decked  in  easily  won  finery,  and  glittering  in  ill- 
gotten  jewels.  Pleasure  was  to  her  the  one  law  of  life, 
and  never  had  she  paused  to  ask  whither  the  current  bore 
her  on,  while  the  current  was  swift  enough  and  laughter 
labored  at  the  oar. 

"I'll  never   forget   you,"  the   schemer  pleaded,  as  he 


A   VANISHED    GODDESS.  199 

clasped   her   hands.     A  hard  look   flashed  out  from  the 
woman's  eyes  and  her  lips  curled  in  quiet  scorn. 

"  Don't  humbug  me,  Fred.  Of  course  I  will  go.  But 
do  you  think  that  I  believe  you?  How  far  would  you  fol- 
low me  in  trouble,  in  sickness,  in  want,  if  your  wander- 
ing fancy  changed?  Dresses,  wine,  jewels,  your  second- 
hand caresses  you  may  lavish  on  us  poor  women,  but  we 
know  you  all,  the  tyrant  slave,  the  man  of  the  moment!" 
Wyman  looked  up  in  some  alarm.  < '  Oh,  don't  be  afraid, 
Fred.  I'm  dead  game,"  said  the  adventuress.  "Even  in 
our  nameless  shadow  life,  our  codeless  soul  traffic,  we  of 
the  anonyma  class  have  one  unbroken  mute  pledge  of  honor. 
It's  our  poor  pitiful  esprit  de  corps.  Only  your  'fine 
ladies '  who  <  stoop  to  conquer '  play  the  repentant  sneak 
and  the  blackmailing  spy. ' ' 

<  <  Why,  Wyman,  at  these  feet,"  and,  she  tapped  the  floor 
with  her  shapely  little  bronze  gaiters,  "  many  a  leading  citi- 
zen has  told  little  matters,  which  would  shake  your  whole 
social  fabric,  if  I  peached.  Why  should  I?  I  am  only  a 
homeless  shadow.  Money,  jewels,  pleasure,"  she  sneered, 
"I  have  a  long  lease  of  them  yet,  unless  this  poor  face 
should  wither.  If  so,  I'll  bother  no  one,  for  I  am  game 
to  the  last.  But,  your  love,  your  protestations!  Do  you 
know,  Fred  Wyman,"  and  she  turned  her  flashing  eyes 
upon  him,  ' '  the  colossal  vanity  of  the  thing  called  man  is 
the  mock  of  every  woman  like  myself.  You  think  that 
we  sell  ourselves.  Not  a  bit!  You  are  all  only  phases  of 
the  prodigal  son,  slaves  to  your  reflected  vanity,  the 
sport  of  your  own  passions,  the  laughing  stock  of  the 
woman  you  all  think  you  can  dupe.  No!  You  do  not  care 
for  me.  You  never  did.  You  care  only  for  yourself. 
You  are  like  the  rest.  Man  loves  himself  alone  in  such 
love!" 

Wyman  was  kneeling  at  her  side.     He  remembered  that 


200  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

she  controlled  the  hidden  secret  of  the  man  who  was  her 
galley  slave,  "Jim  the  Penman."  His  voice  grew  tender, 
"  Vinnie,  I  swear  that  I  would  go  through  fire  and  water 
for  you,"  he  pleaded  as  he  essayed  his  arts,  as  of  old. 

Her  burning  eyes  glowed,  as  if  lit  up  with  an  internal 
fire,  as  she  coldly  said: 

1 '  Would  you  dare  to  be  seen  in  public  in  my  company, 
by  those  women  whom  you  call  '  respectable,  '  your  higher 
circles?  Would  you  aid  me  to  enter  into  any  honest  fam- 
ily, and  try  and  leave  this,  this  damnable  life  I  lead?" 
Her  eyes  burned  into  his  very  soul!  She  laughed  bit- 
terly. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  he  hesitated,  "  that  is  quite  another 
matter,"  and  then,  Wyman  gazed  most  uneasily  at  his 
beautiful  tormentor. 

Vinnie  laughed  again  as  she  drank  a  glass  of  Wyman' s 
best  private  stock.  "  There  you  are,  you  see.  You,  your 
class,  your  successors,  your  teachers  in  folly,  will  cringe 
at  our  feet  in  private,  we  of  the  shadowy  sisterhood. 
You  will  break  any  tie,  every  rule  of  life,  every  com- 
mandment for  us,  and  then  whine  in  fear  to  face  us  in 
public.  My  dear  boy,"  she  laughed,  "  there  is  the  whole 
humbug  of  life.  Lola  Montez  amused  herself  with  riding 
on  a  king,  pick  a  back.  Generals  drag  their  blood-stained 
laurels  at  our  feet,  sages  unbend,  even  the  clergy  can  slip  and 
stumble."  Vinnie's  smile  was  most  deliciously  dainty. 
"But  all  of  these,  only  in  the  fancied  privacy  of  this  relation 
which  you  enjoy, but  you  dare  not  acknowledge.  No,  Fred, 
man,  the  fool,  worships  only  himself  in  his  mistress.  Why, 
you,  Frederick  Wyman,  Esq.,  of  the  Lone  Star,  will  soon 
select  some  innocent  girl  to  be  paraded  in  the  open  as 
your  beloved  wife.  How  would  you  feel  then  if  you  met 
me  in  Paris,  with  your  holy  one  on  your  arm?  Because 
you  turned  the  other  way,  would  memory  lose  her  fabled 


A    VANISHED    GODDESS.  20 1 

grip?  I  think  I  would  like  to  try  you,  my  boy,"  and  the 
rebellious  Vinnie  gayly  drank  her  favorite  toast,  "  Old 
times,  Rocks!"  as  the  startled  capitalist  said: 

"  Don't  be  a  fool.  Get  your  things  on  ready  for  our 
ride."     She  stood  there  laughing. 

"See  here,  Vinnie,"  continued  Wyman;  "-You're  a 
good  girl.  Do  as  I  ask  you.  There's  going  to  be  an  aw- 
ful crash  here.  Now,  I  will  do  what  I  can  for  you.  If 
you  want  to  do  the  European  tour  in  style,  count  on 
me  for  the  cash  on  call,  and  no  one  shall  do  it  better 
than  you,  I'll  promise  you  that." 

"  All  right!  "  cheerfully  remarked  the  fair  original  of 
his  Venus  fresco.  "  I  will  make  fair  game  of  the  old  boys 
to-night.  I  -may  not  see  them  soon  again!  They  will  give 
you  a  roasting,  and  all  that,  I  can  tell  you,  but  I  will  never 
cross  the  line,  Fred.     Not  a  word  on  their  own  affairs." 

"Thank  God!  She  is  at  last  off  my  hands,"  remarked 
Wyman,  as  the  fair  one  disappeared  that  afternoon  and  he 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  waving  handkerchief,  as  he  urged 
the  trotters  away  to  the  hotel,  for  eager  to  gather  in  his 
harvest,  he  only  waited  the  telegram  of  Wilder.  Anxious 
to  be  busied  about  his  own  affairs,  he  dismissed  Vinnie 
Hinton's  little  sermon  from  his  mind.  "  She's  been  drink- 
ing, that's  it,  she's  low  spirited,"  he  muttered.  It  had 
never  occurred  to  him  that  any  of  the  victims  of  his  own 
routine  passions  had  any  human  nature  left,  after  their 
technical  fall  from  womanly  grace.  What  became  of  such 
women  after  they  failed  to  please  longer,  was  a  problem  he 
had  not  thought  of,  but,  he  reflected,  with  comfortable 
confidence  in  the  'power  of  gold,  that  if  a  particular 
bright  face  was  missed,  others  were  always  ready  to  fill  a 
vacant  niche — the  march  of  life,  its  dreadest  game. 
* '  She  would  have  been  a  credit  if  she  had  not  gone  wrong,  " 
he  sadly  thought,  however,  as   Vinnie   disappeared,  and 


202  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MAEIQUITA. 

yet,  he  never  debated  whether  a  daily  struggle  with  neg- 
lect, poverty  and  family  cares,  and  a  certain  heroic  self- 
sacrifice  was  her  personal  duty,  to  be  accepted  without 
murmur,  as  a  matter  of  course,  instead  of  playing  the  com- 
panion role  to  his  own,  in  the  life  of  the  victorious  human 
shark. 

Wyman  was  busied  until  the  shades  of  the  night,  which 
he  feared,  in  sending  forth  telegraphic  orders  to  veil  all 
the  movements  of  his  vast  financial  game  of  chess.  He 
would  not  have  smiled  so  unconcernedly  as  he  did,  on  the 
closing  day,  could  he  have  noted  the  face  of  the  defeated 
lawyer,  Waldo  Strong,  who  had  drawn  Andy  Bowen  and 
Hooper  into  a  dark  niche  of  Pauper  alley. 

The  afternoon  shades  were  deepening  on  Pine  street,  as 
the  passionless  lawyer,  for  once,  entirely  forgot  himself. 
"  See  here!  The  public  went  into  the  '  Lone  Star'  on  your 
reputation  as  directors.  There  is  some  deadly  swindle  in 
this  strange  mishap.  By  heaven!  It  has  ruined  me,  but 
I'll  hunt  that  brute  Wyman  down  to  his  death  yet.  I  swear 
it!  He  broke  down  this  market  on  purpose.  I  know  it!  " 
There  was  a  desperate  gleam  of  undying  hatred,  in  this 
man's  haggard  eyes. 

' '  Come  and  take  a  drink, "  soothingly  said  Andrew 
Bowen,  Esq.  "I  was  away,  Strong,"  the  good-humored 
capitalist  said.  "Hooper  here,  tells  me  it  is  a  'square 
thing.'  You  can  bet  that  B^b  Haley  is  no  man  to  be  in  a 
1  rotten  deal; '  and,  twenty-eight  men  were  burned.  Any 
man's  life  would  not  be  worth  a  pin's  fee  in  Virginia  who 
would  do  that,  or  have  it  done."  Bowen  espied  the 
gathering  crowd.  "  You  see,"  he  further  pleaded, 
"Hooper  and  I  only  hold  directors'  stock,  ten  shares  each. 
Our  own  affairs  with  Wyman  are  in  the  other  locations. 
No,  it's  the  fortunes  of  war,  Strong,  and  I'm  sorry  for 
you.     It's  California— up  one  day,  down  the  other." 


A    VANISHED    GODDESS.  203 

The  two  friends  walked  away  up  Pine  street  together, 
as  the  lawyer  left  them,  still  swearing  oaths  of  vengeance. 

"Andy,"  huskily  whispered  Hooper,  "Look  out  for 
Wyman.  He's  a  deadly  scoundrel."  The  big  Nevada 
giant  laughed. 

"Oh!     He's  welcome  to  what  he  can  steal  from  me!" 

"But,  Hooper,  stocks,  you  know,  stocks;  a  man 
would  scalp  his  own  father,  and  turn  him  out-of-doors  on 
a  stock  deal.  If  I  were  you,  I  would  keep  quiet  about 
Wyman.     There's  bother  enough  ahead  for  us  all.     Why! 

I'm  told  even  that is  shaky."     And  the  name  he 

whispered  was  so  mighty, that  its  mention  startled  the  half- 
drunken  Hooper  into  other  thoughts.  He  nursed  in  his 
bosom  two  special  grievances,  Wyman' s  rough  threats, 
the  memory  of  that  flashing  pistol  barrel,  and  the  unex- 
plained absence  of  his  own  vanished  goddess. 

"I  will  be  even  with  him  yet,  too,  by  God,"  swore 
Hooper,  as  he  took  a  double  cocktail  alone  before  his 
solitary  dinner.  l « I  could  crush  the  scoundrel  now. "  And 
yet,  he  dared  not  speak.  There  was  madness  in  the 
thought. 

But,  the  cheering  news  of  Wilder's  gathering  in  the 
golden  harvest,  refreshed  the  disturbed  soul  of  the  wait- 
ing Wyman.  The  thousand  and  one  rumors  of  the  street  all 
cleared  off,  and  the  financial  field  was  only  covered,  so 
far,  with  the  dead  of  the  ruined  Waldo  Strong  faction. 

"It  is  a  marvel  how  we  cashed  all  in,"  cheerfully  said 
Wilder,  over  their  wine,  as  they  nodded  to  the  "veiled 
companion,"  who  had  arrived  with  the  happy  broker. 
"There  is  an  uneasy  local  feeling  that  something  very 
grave  will  soon  happen.  It  will  be  a  battle  of  the  Gods," 
Wyman  laughed. 

"I'll  stay  over  here  another  day.  Vinnie  will  be  back 
in  the    morning,  and  I've  telegraphed  to  Haley  to  come 


204  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

down  in  three  days.  So,  if  you  will  have  the  announce- 
ments made  that  the  <  Lone  Star '  will  soon  be  equipped 
with  improved  machinery,  at  once  reopened  and  properly 
connected  with  the  south  end  mines,  it  will  soon  get  us 
out  of  the  woods.  Say,  too,  that  Captain  Haley  has 
been  summoned  down  here  by  me  to  make  plans  for  the 
most  extensive  improvements;  about  a  thousand  dollars 
worth  of  good  newspaper  talk." 

High  was  the  revel  at  the  old  Alvarado  Hotel,  while 
Wyman's  merry  mood  lasted,  for,  his  returning  dove  had 
brought  to  him  good  news  which  brought  back  the  even 
swing  of  his  pulses.  "There's  nothing  at  all  ugly  said, 
Fred,"  laughed  Vinnie,  "  for,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  a  big 
war  for  blood  is  coming  on,  and  the  '  big  four '  set  me  play- 
ing waltzes  in  the  far  end  of  the  room,  while  they  whis- 
pered their  own  deviltry.  As  far  as  I  can  make  out  it's  Vir- 
ginia City  against  San  Francisco,  and  some  one,  some  one, 
will  have  to  go  to  the  wall.  Now,  you're  all  right!  The 
senator  himself  said  you  had  cleaned  out  the  Strong  syndi- 
cate— horse,  foot  and  dragoons,  and  that  you  would  be 
a  king  of  the  Comstock,  yet,  if  you  did  not  lose  your 
head.     Now,  that's  a  high  compliment." 

There  was  an  added  richness  of  tasteful  diamond  decora- 
tion in  Vinnie  Hinton's  personal  make  up,  after  they  had 
circuitously  reached  San  Francisco,  and  the  "  lady  from  the 
country"  mocked  the  morose  Hooper,  with  varied  stories 
of  her  wandering  in  fragrant  fields,  for  even  Hooper 
could  not  make  her  betray  Wyman.  Vinnie  simply 
smiled  and  made  no  sign.  It  brought  him  blindly  to  her 
feet. 

The  bank  books  of  the  aged  scribe,  Brown,  showed  fat 
balances,  which  astounded  even  the  covetous  Wyman  him- 
self. Morani  rejoiced  in  an  unexpected  heavy  gratuity, 
and    Mr.    Horace    Wilder' s   new     "four-in-hand"    was 


A    VANISHED    GODDESS.  205 

termed  "The  Lone  Star  "by  envious  brokers,  who  still 
drove  only  modest  ten-thousand  dollar  spans.  But  one 
cloud,  and  that  a  very  dark  one,  rested  on  Frederick  Wy- 
man's  mind,  still  casting  its  shadow  over  certain  definite 
arrangements  for  that  breakfast,  for  which  Mrs.  Milly 
Hammond  was  now  slyly  engaged  in  preparing  the  mind 
of  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon. 

The  beautiful  singer  was  burdened  with  a  very  sad 
heart.  Around  the  path  of  youth,  innocence  and  loveli- 
ness, the  shadows  of  care  already  threw  a  gloomy  penum- 
bra. ' '  I  had  hoped  that  I  might  be  able  to  finish  my 
operatic  training  in  Paris.  Mr.  Strong  had  such  faith  in 
my  future.  He  was  so  kind.  He  had  even  offered  to 
help  me  to  go,  so  that  my  mind  could  be  at  ease,  while  I 
studied;  and  now,  he  is  utterly  ruined,  thousands  of 
dollars  worse  off  than  nothing."  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon's 
sobs  were  interrupted  by  the  suave  voice  of  Milly  Ham- 
mond, speaking  with  a  sudden  alarm. 

"  You  have  not  foolishly  tied  yourself  up  with  him?  any 
marriage  engagement?  I  hope  not  that?"  The  handsome 
society  leader  closely  questioned  the  girl  with  a  keen 
scrutiny  of  the  graceful  bowed  form. 

"No!  no!  There  is  nothing,  but  it  was  my  main- 
stay, his  manly  friendship,  and  your  kindness.  I  have 
no  other  friends. " 

"Listen, Gladys! "  soothingly  remarked  Milly  Hammond. 
"I  wish  you  to  come  and  sing  for  a  friend  of  mine,  Mr. 
Wyman.  He  is  deeply  interested  in  art."  Milly  smiled 
as  she  thought  of  the  floating  Venus  fresco  on  the  clouded 
ceiling,  of  which,  with  envious  eyes,  she  had  enjoyed  a 
"private  view,"  "personally  conducted"  by  "dear 
Fred."  "  I  may  induce  Mr.  Wyman  to  take  an  interest  in 
you.  I  do  so  wish  him  to  hear  your  voice."  And  so,  the 
white  dove    fluttered  gently    down,    softly  stealing  into 


206  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

that  trap  which  velvet-eyed  < '  lady  friends"  have  so  often 
set  for  the  innocence  which  they  always  despise,  when 
their  own  vague  regrets  are  deadened  under  their  own 
Paris  corsages.     The  whippers  in  are  always  pitiless! 

Victory  perching  on  the  Wyman  banner,  the  cheering  re- 
ports of  that  soiled  dove,  Vinnie  Hinton,  the  comparative 
quiet  of  all  the  local  journals  as  to  his  name,  "  after  Broker 
Wilder's  anodyne,"  and  the  restoration  of  all  his  bank- 
pledged  collaterals,  made  Frederick  Wyman,  Esq.,  very 
light-hearted,  as  he  eagerly  closeted  himself  with  Captain 
Bob  Haley,  on  the  arrival  of  that  disheartened  chief  of 
gnomes. 

Wyman  had  already  fixed  a  date  for  the  little  "ac- 
cidental" breakfast  which  was  to  bring  Gladys  Lyn- 
don into  the  meshes  of  his  golden  net,  and  so  he  gaily 
chanted  a  bit  of  a  lately  learned  love  song,  "a  la  mode," 
while  Haley  prepared  himself  for  the  business  interview. 

"I'll  put  you  up  here  in  good  shape,  Captain,  and  you 
can  then  have  a  week's  oiftime,  after  we  look  things  all 
over,"  said  Wyman,  as  Haley  went  quietly  to  his  room. 
The  miner's  face  was  gravely  preoccupied,  and  his  manner 
was  seemingly  sullen  and  depressed. 

"He  takes  it  pretty  hard,"  the  speculator  mused. 

Wyman  gazed  at  his  beautiful  guardian  demon  floating 
there  above  him  on  the  ceiling,  and,  contemplating  the  gay 
sisters  of  Joseph  outside,  whose  coats  of  many  colors 
alone,  were  preserved  as  family  characteristics,  sweeping 
by  on  their  daily  parade,  he  nursed  an  exceptionally  fine 
cigar  with  a  feeling  of  perfect  comfort.  ' '  I  must  soften 
Haley  down.     I'll  give  him  a  big  present." 

"It's  a  good  time  for  my  European  tour,  a  first  'pros- 
pecting trip,'"  he  thought,  stretched  out  at  his  ease.  "I 
have  *  corraled  '  the  whole  stock,  except  just  enough  to 
assess,  the  rebuilding  of   the  shaft  on.     If  I  have  to  buy 


A    VANISHED    GODDESS.  207 

that  in,  I  will  then  have  the  whole  mine  back.  Cautiously 
opening  into  my  best  ground,  paying  some  regular  divi- 
dends, mostly  to  myself,  I  ought  to  be  able  to  unload 
forty  per  cent,  of  the  stock  in  the  East  or  on  the  London 
or  Paris  market  at  very  big,  fancy  prices.  That  would  all 
drift  back  to  me  in  time.  I  could  hold  on  then  to  the 
mine,  direct  the  future  explorations  to  suit  me,  and  so 
easily  clear  up  two  or  three  millions  in  time.  But,  I 
must  have  leisure  to  'work  the  London  market.'  I 
must  get  into  good  Paris  and  London  society.  I  can 
make  a  very  good  showing  there,  and  work  in  on  the 
money  men  from  the  basis  of  society.  They  would 
hardly  believe  a  rough  booby  like  Andy  Bowen  to  be  a 
big  man  out  here,  or  in  any  other  place.  I  need  only  two 
or  three  years  now  to  reach  my  final  standing,  and  my 
finances  are  all  right  now.  It  was  a  grand  clean  up,  that 
fire.  The  best  of  it  is,  that  no  one  suspects.  And,  Mr. 
Walter  Strong,  crushed  once,  I'll  keep  you  under  my  heel. 
I  can  safely  leave  the  mine  with  Haley.  He's  a  trump. 
Brown  is  the  one  honest  man  I've  struck  down  here.  He 
is  acclimated  to  it  from  youth!  I'll  pay  Brown  well  and 
leave  things  with  him  and  Haley.  Wilder' s  account  and 
the  Hooper,  Bowen  &  Co.  connection,  I  will  liquidate." 

While  waiting  for  Haley,  the  millionaire  called  in 
young  Hopkins,  and  dictated  a  note  which  set  Messrs. 
Hooper  &  Bowen  to  looking  about  smartly  for  "  ready 
cash."  The  strongest  partner  was  about  to  make  a 
"move"  of  some  Napoleonic  kind,  but  Wyman's  word 
was  law. 

"Wilder  I  will  leave  to  the  very  last,  and  then  let  a 
little  money  lie  in  his  hands,  enough  to  keep  his  tongue 
still." 

Glancing  at  a  "  society  journal "  lying  before  him, 
Wyman   noted   a   flaring   headline,    "Marriage  in  High 


208  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

Life,  a  Union  of  Hearts,  Hands  and  Millions. "  Some- 
thing seemed  to  let  a  ray  of  light  into  his  brain,  as  he  read 
the  fulsomely  enthusiastic  screed.  "Why  not  myself?  " 
he  smiled.  "What  if  I  were  to  marry  some  girl  high  up, 
with  a  powerful  family  backing,  some  one  who  could 
launch  me  over  there  and  thus  keep  me?"  He  paced  the 
floor,  and,  opening  a  little  private  wall  safe,  contemplated 
a  picture  obligingly  donated  by  that  easy-going  social  star, 
Mrs.  Milly  Hammond.  It  showed  to  his  eager  gaze  the 
face  of  a  beautiful  girl;  a  delicate,  noble,  dreamy  face, 
untouched  by  sorrow  and  unspotted  by  sin.  The  face  of 
this  "  nobleman  of  Nature  "  glowed  with  the  sudden,  weird 
fire  of  a  hidden  passion,  fed  on  its  own  self-created  fuel. 
It  was  the  young  singer! 

"Marriage!  No,  not  yet,"  he  softly  murmured.  "Not 
till  I  have  had  some  little  musical  experience,"  and  his 
face  bore  the  delightful  smile  of  a  sleeping  tiger,  as  Captain 
Robert^  Haley  was  shown  in  by  the  pert  Morani.  The 
miner  stood  before  him  with  a  gloomy  brow. 

"  Tony,  "sharply  said  Wyman,  "tell  Mr.  Hopkins  no  one 
must  interrupt  me  now  till  I  ring,  only  Mr.  Brown  or  Mr. 
Wilder,  and  you  stay  out  there  and  come  in  yourself.  I 
don't  want  to  see  even  them,  not  unless  it  is  absolutely 
necessary.     The  captain  and  I  have  important  business. 

"Now,  Haley,  I  am  ready  for  your  report,"  briskly 
said  the  confident  millionaire,  as  he  spread  out  his  private 
note  book,  ready  to  jot  down  his  personal  comments. 
1 '  Leave  all  the  papers  till  later.  Tell  me  all  from  the 
first." 

Wyman's  hands  rested  on  the  bundle  of  neat  documents 
prepared  by  the  company's  bookkeeper,  and,  pencil  in 
hand,  he  listened  to  Haley's  grave  monotone,  as  the  miner 
did  a  round,  unvarnished  tale  deliver.  Haley's  eyes  were 
downcast,    and    his  shoulders  twitched   as    if    some    in- 


A    VANISHED    GODDESS.  209 

ternal  emotion  mastered  him.  While'  he  detailed  in  prac- 
tical terms  the  whole  mishap,  he  gave  an  accurate  resume 
of  the  later  situation.  There  was  not  a  single  reference 
to  Wyman's  mysterious  homeward  trip,  to  his  sudden 
flitting,  or  to  the  state  of  feeling  among  the  five  thou 
sand  men  of  the  Miners'  Union,  that  hidden  association  of 
the  craft,  which  practically  regulated  the  whole  affairs  of 
the  Comstock,  and  tamed  the  insolence  of  the  budding 
Bonanza  kings,  once  their  equals,  for  well  knew  the  men 
who  toiled,  half  naked,  in  the  steaming  depths  of  the 
Comstock  lode,  that  no  force  available  at  call  of  capitalist 
or  kaiser,  in  the  whole  world,  could  at  once  replace  their 
own  local  knowledge  and  skilled  services.  They  were  the 
matchless  product  of  fifteen  years  of  daring  experience 
and  indomitable  pluck.  Man,  brute,  egoist  and  sensual- 
ist, always  rises  to  the  sublime  in  the  dauntless  front  he 
shows  to  peril,  the  stern  self-devotion  of  his  struggle  with 
nature,  animate  or  inanimate.  Fainting  in  burning  des- 
erts, clinging  to  the  frozen  "  royals,"  with  bleeding  hands, 
throwing  himself  into  the  hell  vortex  of  battle,  fac- 
ing the  horrible  Arctic  silent  ice  wastes,  thrusting 
himself  into  the  splintered  crevices  of  the  earth, 
glowering  in  darkened  prison  cells,  bearing  the  brunt  of 
labors  sufficient  to  affright  a  Hercules,  soaring  in  the  air, 
or  groping  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  <  *  no  dangers  fright 
him,  and  no  labors  tire. "  Facing  the  ferocious  giants  of  the 
forest,  drifting  on  trackless  seas,  no  Alp  appalls,  no  path- 
less wilderness  affrights,  and  strong-armed, tough-hearted, 
he  reaches  out,  sublime  in  his  own  heart  of  oak,  to  make 
the  impossible  possible!  From  time  immemorial,  this  in- 
grained strength  and  courage,  has  won  the  tremulous  physi- 
cal adoration  of  Eve's  sleek-skinned  daughters,  who,  with 
a  thrill  of  passionate  abandonment,  a  secret,  unspeakable 
joy,  hurl  themselves  ever  gladly  into  the  outspread  arms 
of  strength  and  courage. 


210  MISS    DEVEKEUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

In  this  self-abandonment,  the  filmy  mesh  of  the  moralist 
is  broken  at  a  single  bound  of  the  lissome-limbed  chil- 
dren of  Venus,  all  awakened  and  aglow  in  their  wild  ecstatic 
hero  worship.  No  stouter  hearts  ever  faced  peril  than 
the  grim,  hairy-breasted  giants  of  the  Comstock.  Long 
after  their  bones  are  mouldered,  the  chorus  of  their  ring- 
ing picks  and  sharp-struck  drills  will  haunt  the  side  of 
Mount  Davidson  in  ghostly  echoes,  a  memory  of  clear 
pluck  and  grit  to  the  backbone!  Warm  hearted,  no  peril 
ever  came  upon  their  fellows,  that  volunteers  did  not  glory 
in  risking  their  own  lives,  unpaid,  with  no  hope  of  re- 
nown, to  save  the  life  of  their  rude  fellows. 

So,  "Flynn  of  Virginia"  is  no  fancy  sketch  of  the  man 
of  diamond  pencil,  but  he  has  lived,  he  lives  yet,  and 
has  his  prototypes  in  the  handsome  troglodytes,  who  gaze 
with  scorn  at  the  "tenderfoot,"  who  goes  down  a  station  or 
two,  on  a  safety  cage,  returning  to  the  surface  to  lie  like 
a  Munchausen.  The  talent  which  develops  the  explorer 
into  an  immediately  successful  "first-class  liar,"  seems 
to  even  descend  to  the  tourist,  with  his  tweed  suit,  ex- 
cursion ticket,  and  brazen  inexperience.  It  is  the  very 
first  heritage  of  travel,  and  was  no  doubt  the  legacy  to  the 
successors  of  the  snake  who  reported  that  '  <  morning  call" 
on  Adam  and  Eve  in  the  garden,  the  first  of  interviewers, 
and  "the  prince  of  liars." 

Mr.  Frederick  Wyman,  in  the  full  tide  of  his  own 
golden  fortune,  taken  at  the  flood,  feared  alone  the  Miners' 
Union,  for  well  he  knew  that  if  there  was  a  single  keen- 
eyed  man  whose  suspicions  were  aroused,  not  a  miner 
would  re-enter  the  shaft  until  the  will  of  the  « l  union " 
governed  the  future  working  of  the  mine.  So,  when 
Captain  Haley  finished  his  recital,  the  millionaire  was 
keenly  alert,  as  the  foreman  handed  him  an  unpretentious 
note.      "  It  is  from  the  Miners'  Union!  "  he  said,  and  then 


A   VANISHED    GODDESS.  211 

rose,  and,  thrusting  his  hand  into  his  blouse  pocket,  gazed 
mutely  out  of  the  window. 

Wyman's  hand  trembled  slightly,  as  he  opened  the  brief 
note.  It  was  curt  enough,  but  it  spoke  with  the  irresisti- 
ble voice  of  five  thousand  men.     The  millionaire  read  it 

al0Ud*  Virginia  City,  Nev.,  July  18, 1875. 

To  the  Owners  of  The  '"Lone  Star"  Mine, 

Gentlemen:  At  a  regular  meeting  of  the  Miners'  Union,  held 
July  12  1875,  it  was  ordered  that  no  member  of  the  Union  be  per- 
mitted to  do  any  but  work  needful  for  the  care  and  preservation 
of  property,  until  the  "  Lone  Star  "  is  properly  connected  at  suitable 
levels,  for  life  saving,  with  the  north  or  south  end  mines.  This 
work  to  be  all  done  before  any  regular  shift  begins  extracting  any 

ore. 

Your  early  attention  is  called  to  this  matter. 

Kespectfully  yours, 

I.  H.  DUGENNESS, 

Secretary  Miners'  Union. 

"Is  the  mine  still  sealed?"  asKed  Wyman.  Haley 
wheeled  around,  quick  as  a  flash,  from  his  post  by  the  win- 
dow. 

"Yes  sir!"  he  said,  with  the  prompt  obedience  of  a  sub- 
ordinate. "I  opened  it  and  was  lowered  down  myself, 
with  a  safety  lamp,  on  a  slack  cable  wire.  There  is  no  fire 
now  in  the  mine,  but  I  resealed,  it  for  fear  of  a  single 
lingering  spark.  There's  little  left  to  burn."  His  eyes 
were  glowering,  and  yellow  flashes  lit  them  up,  as  Wyman, 
in  a  husky  voice,  said: 

"Did  you  find  the  men's  bodies?  Have  they  been  re- 
moved?" 

"Nothing  there  to  remove,"  answered  Haley.  "Only 
the  white  ashes  of  the  live  coals,  which  fill  the  shaft  thirty 
or  forty  feet.  The  men  were  all  down  in  the  lower  level, 
and,  they  are  ashes,  too,  under  these  white  ashes.     The 


212  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

ashes  were  still  warm,  and  so,  I  got  quickly  out  of  the  mine. 
Wyman  shuddered,  and  his  hand  shook,  as  he  drained  a 
full  glass  of  brandy.  Lighting  a  cigar,  he  walked  slowly 
up  and  down. 

"Did  you  go  into  any  of  the  upper  levels?" 

"Where  I  could,"  replied  Haley.  "  Some  of  them  are 
badly  caved.  The  frames  all  burned  away  and  let  the  loose 
rocks  down.  The  one  you  came  out  of  is  choked  all  the 
way,  at  both  ends.  I  tried  to  have  a  boy  crawl  in  there. 
Couldn't  make  it."  Wyman  threw  himself  down  in  a 
chair  and  drew  a  long  breath. 

'  *  I  will  send  a  formal  answer  to  the  Miners'  Union,  and 
telegraph  to  the  secretary  to-night  that  I  will  do  as  they 
wish.  Now,  tell  me  your  own  plans.  What  will  you  do?" 
The  young  millionaire's  heart  beat  easier,  as  he  noted  not  a 
single  awkward  reference  to  the  secret  visit.  He  sprang  to 
his  feet  in  a  sudden  astonishment,  as  Haley  suddenly 
assumed  the  attitude  of  a  man  freed  of  bondage.  Hand- 
ing a  closed  envelope  to  the  astonished  Wyman,  he  said 
bluntly : 

"I  will  just  take  a  check  for  my  salary  up  to  this  time, 
and  then,  hunt  for  another  job."  Having  delivered  him- 
self of  the  note,  which  seemed  to  be  a  dreaded  formality, 
Captain  Robert  Haley  coolly  lit  a  cigar,  and  then  dropped 
in  a  loose  heap,  in  a  chair. '  He  was  now  his  own  master, 
and  his  manner  clearly  showed  it. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  this?  "  angrily  cried  Wyman, 
as  he  tossed  the  letter  of  resignation  down  on  the  table. 
An  instant  later,  he  regretted  speaking  harshly. 

For,  Bob  Haley  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  The 
change  of  Wyman's  tone  had  touched  some  hidden  chord, 
and  his  right  hand  slid,  snake-like,  into  his  blouse  pocket. 

"It  just  means  that  I  will  never  set  foot  in  the  "Lone 
Star"  again,  as  long  as  I  live.     I  left  McManus  in  charge 


A    VANISHED    GODDESS.  213 

there.  Everything  is  in  order,  and  you  can  send  my  check 
down  to  me  at  the  Russ  House."  The  eyes  of  the  two  men 
met,  and  even  in  the  supreme  moment  of  a  breathless  rage, 
Frederick  Wyman  found  time  to  remember  that  nothing 
had  ever  yet  shaken  the  dauntless  nerve  of  Bob  Haley.  The 
miner  turned  without  a  single  word,  and,  entering  the 
splendid  suite  of  rooms,  where  Wyman  had  put  him  up, 
picked  up  his  untouched  hand  valise. 

A  cold  sickening  feeling  oppressed  Wyman,  as  he 
touched  the  bell  for  Morani. 

"  Tony!  "  he  said,  as  the  lithe  form  of  Haley  appeared, 
sack  in  hand,  in  the  door,  "  Call  a  coupe  for  Captain 
Haley,  and  take  his  valise  down  for  him." 

"  Never  mind,  Tony,"  very  good-humoredly  said  Haley, 
' '  I  drove  a  bull  team  all  the  way  over  the  plains  from  St. 
Joe,  and,  I  can  walk  two  blocks."  The  polite  efforts  of 
Morani  to  capture  Haley's  bag  were  unsuccessful. 

When  the  street  door  of  the  •  private  entrance  closed, 
Frederick  Wyman  realized  that  his  factotum  had  gone 
away,  without  even  a  single  kindly  word  of  parting  greet- 
ing. Morani's  arched  eyebrows  were  lifted,  as  he  busied 
himself  in  his  master's  room,  but  the  sounds  of  a  vigorous 
volley  of  oaths  did  not  disconcert  this  prince  of  valets. 
San  Francisco  life  had  many  such  little  episodes. 

"  Curse  the  fool!  "  cried  Wyman.  "He  knows  that  I 
dare  not  go  back  now  and  face  those  low  brutes  up  there; " 
and  he  then,  swore  a  deep  and  bitter  oath  to  himself. 
"  I'll  leave  those  ash-heaps  there,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
shaft,  and  I'll  open  the  upper  levels  and  work  on  my  hid- 
den ore  body. "  The  clear,  steady  gaze  of  Haley  had  burned 
a  "  Scotch  verdict  "  into  his  own  cowardly  soul.  "Damn 
him!"  cried  Wyman.  "He  can  prove  nothing — not  a 
thing.  I'll  put  the  bookkeeper  in  charge,  and  then  tele- 
graph McManus  down  here.  Some  fellow  will,  probably, 
kill  Haley  some  day,  and  that  will  let  him  out." 


214  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

When  he  had  seen  the  nimble  Hopkins  depart  with  the  tel- 
egrams to  the  "Miners'  Union,"  and  also  to  the  uncon- 
sciously promoted  MoManus,  Wyman 's  throbbing  pulses  set- 
tled down  again  to  their  even  click  of  static  health.  But 
as  he  robed  himself  for  a  park  ride,  his  cheeks  burned 
red  in  shame.  The  cool  defiance  of  the  workingman, 
the  unspoken  sentence  of  honest  Bob  Haley  branded  him 
in  his  own  heart,  as  a  detected  coward  and  scoundrel. 

"  How  much  does  he  suspect?  "  gasped  Wyman.  "  He 
never  will,  he  never  can  know  anything.  Damn  him!  I 
would  like  to  have  him  put  out  of  the  way."  Alas!  even 
his  heated  brain  was  cool  enough  to  realize  that  no  man  in 
Nevada  would  dare  to  come  to  close  quarters  with  the  gray- 
eyed  dead-shot,  who  was  as  fearless  as  nerve  could  make  a 
man.  The  miners  all  adored  him,  and  they  were  a  band  of 
Guardsmen,  "  one  for  all,  and  all,  for  one."  "  Some  out- 
sider," he  mused.  "No,  I  might  bring  up  the  old  mat- 
ters that  way,"  and  with  a  smiling  face,  he  dictated  a  letter 
of  eulogy  to  Captain  Robert  Haley,  Russ  House,  San 
Francisco,  and  enclosed,  besides  his  monthly  salary,  a  check 
for  one  year's  full  earnings,  "as  a  slight  testimonial  of 
your  valuable  services  in  the  past." 

It  was  not  three  hours  till  a  hotel  porter  returned  that 
portion  of  the  money  enclosure,  with  a  great  scrawl  of  the 
hotel  desk-pen,  defacing  the  neat  check.  It  read,  « '  Not 
wanted.  R.  Haley. "  But,  Wyman  was  really  triumphant, 
for  he  well  knew  now  the  silent  man  would  not  publicly 
brand  him,  and  his  spirits  rose,  when  an  hour  later,  he  saw 
Mrs.  Milly  Hammond's  victoria  slowly  moving  around  the 
band  pavilion  in  Golden  Gate  Park.  Turning  out  into 
the  Mall,  he  telegraphed  one  quick  appeal  to  the  dashing 
brunette  "  leader  of  fashion."  There  was  a  victorious 
gleam  in  his  dark,  eager  eyes,  as,  on  the  second  turn,  Mrs. 
Hammond's  victoria  drew  also,  into  the  oval. 


A    VANISHED    GODDESS.  215 

In  five  minutes— the  very  essence  of  good  form — the 
young  millionaire  approached  the  carriage.  Even  at  a 
distance  the  gleaming,  golden  hair  and  graceful,  girlish 
form  told  of  the  gentle  quarry  he  had  already  marked 
down.     Miss  Lyndon  was  there. 

" I  am  so  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Wyman,  to-day,"  re- 
marked Mrs.  Hammond,  smilingly,  as  the  young  man 
bent  low  over  her  hand.  "  Gladys,  my  dear,  allow  me  to 
present  my  intimate  friend,  Mr.  Wyman.  Miss  Lyndon, 
Mr.  Wyman.  As  Gladys  is  going  down  to  Menlo  Park 
for  a  week,  I  hope  you  will  come  and  breakfast  with  me 
to-morrow,  and  then  you  may  hear  this  i  gentle  lark '  in 
private.  Your  accident  took  you  away  so  early  from  my 
musicale  and,  you  naughty  man,  what  have  you  been 
doing  with  my  pet  stock,  the  <  Lone  Star?  '  I  am  a  heavy 
loser  with  you!  " 

Wyman's  eyes  met  Milly  Hammond's  in  a  glance  of  un- 
feigned gratitude,  for  his  heart  was  thrilled  with  the  near- 
ness of  the  beautiful  divinity  who  now  haunted  his  nightly 
dreams.  As  he  stood,  hat  in  hand,  by  the  side  of  the  car- 
riage, and  the  park  orchestra  gave  an  excellent  rendition 
of  a  "  Rigoletto"  potpourri,  Wyman  did  not  wonder  at 
his  friend  Varick's  enthusiasm.  In  his  new  metier  of 
' '  rising  citizen  "  Wyman  had  well  used  his  leisure  hours, 
and  Vinnie  Hinton's  fragmentary  musical  sky-rocketing, 
had  not  been  lost  upon  him.  While  they  glided  into  an 
easy  entente  cordiale,  Frederick  Wyman's  pulses  were 
thronged  "with  the  fullness  of  the  spring,"  beaming  in 
the  splendid  eyes  shining  down  on  him.  Gladys  Lyndon's 
low  musical  voice  thrilled  him,  and  he  forgot  himself,  in 
his  rapid,  earnest  self-surrender  to  the  witchery  of  her 
presence.  He  failed  to  see  the  fiery  glances  of  a  royally 
beautiful  woman  glaring  from  behind  the  half-drawn 
maroon  silk  curtains  of  a  well-appointed  coupe,  drawn  up 
in  the  nearest  line. 


216  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"  Ah!  Le  roi  s'amuse,"  muttered  la  belle  inconnue,  Vin- 
nie  Hinton.  "It  is  the  rising  queen  of  song!  She  shines 
me  down,  I  suppose.  Never  mind,"  and,  with  a  bitterness 
at  heart  she  dared  not  own  to  herself,  the  ' '  queen  o'  light 
loves  "  whispered,  "Tume  lo  pagherai ! "  for,  it  was  the  first 
gleam  of  the  coming  sunset  of  her  beauty — the  first  inti- 
mation that  the  days  were  coming  when  she  would  play 
' '  leading  lady  "  no  more  in  the  mad  whirl  of  Mr.  Frederick 
Wyman's  lurid  and  vicious  life.  -  At  a  touch  of  her  bell, 
the  coachman  drew  out,  and  Vinnie  Hinton  shuddered  as 
the  cold  mist  swept  in  from  the  sounding  Pacific. 

Turning  her  head,  she  saw  the  young  millionaire  still 
standing  spell-bound,  at  the  side  of  "La  Diva  Nuova." 
Her  eyes  rested  last,  on  the  tall  cross,  crowning  the  bare 
slopes  of  < '  Lone  Mountain, "  rising  out  of  the  cemetery 
near,  with  its  embattled  army  of  the  dead.  < '  I  am  sick  of 
this  whole  mad  devil  dance  here.  Anything  is  better  than 
this.  I  want  to  get  out  of  this  life,  far,  far  away!"  And 
a  singular  stroke  of  fate  awaited  her,  as  she  entered  her 
own  rooms  an  hour  later,  in  the  growing  gloom,  as  Mr. 
James  Walter  Hooper,  perfectly  sober,  and  with  an  ashen 
face  and  haggard  eyes,  drew  her  to  his  side,  and  locked 
the  door. 

* '  Vinnie !  Drop  all  nonsense !  "  he  hoarsely  said.  ' '  You 
must  lend  me  your  brains  for  a  short  half  hour.  It's  a 
matter  of  life  and  death.  Listen! "  And,  he  told  a  story 
of  shame  and  crime. 

Wyman,  in  the  park,  lingering  "  under  her  spell,"  re- 
called himself  as  Mrs.  Millie  Hammond  shivered  under  her 
India  shawl.  The  tete-a-tete  was  being  observed,  and  it 
did  not  suit  her  private  code,  for  she  "moved  in  a  myste- 
rious way  "   her  wonders  to  perform. 

"I  will  give  you  stock  enough,  at  current  rates,  to  make 
you  think  better  of  the  'Lone  Star,"'  gracefully  said  the 


A   VANISHED    GODDESS.  217 

young  man,  as  he  caught  Milly's  telegraphic  eye,  "  and  you 
will  think  better  of  your  faith  in  me,  for  I  never  desert  a 
friend." 

The  gratitude  of  Mrs.  Hammond  was  a  factor  in  the 
waiting  look  of  welcome  for  the  morrow,  which  dismissed 
Wyman,  with  all  the  sweet  promise  of  Gladys  Lyndon's 
eyes.  She  mused  in  hopeful  anticipation,  as  the  ladies 
easily  journeyed  homeward:  "My  dear!  only  make  an  im- 
pression on  Mr.  Wyman  with  your  singing  to-morrow,  and 
your  career  is  made.     He  can  do  everything  for  you. " 

The  fair,  trusting  girl  dreamed  then  of  triumphs  at  La 
Scala  and  San  Carlo,  at  the  Opera,  the  noble  seat  of  Parisian 
art,  at  "Her  Majesty's,"  and  her  fancy  ran  on  as  free  and 
far,  as  the  winds  wailing  in  from  the  sea. 

A  flash,  the  sharp  click  of  flying  feet,  and  Wyman' s 
handsome  face  fleeted  by,  his  hat  doffed,  as  the  superb 
trotters  leaped  forward,  level  as  the  soaring  pelican,  and 
light-footed  as  the  bounding  deer. 

"There  goes  one  of  Nature's  noblemen!"  enthusiastic- 
ally cried  the  delighted  Mrs.  Hammond,  as  she  thought  of 
the  schemer's  enforced  generosity  in  equalizing  her  losses 
by  the  unexpected  fire  in  the  "Lone  Star." 

Wyman,  already  a  half-mile  away,  had  taken  up  again 
his  own  bundle  of  cares  at  the  park  gate,  and,  strange  to 
relate,  his  cheeks  still  burned,  as  if  with  the  shame  of  an 
unrequited  blow,  when  he  thought  of  Bob  Haley's  con- 
temptuous desertion.  <  <  I  wonder  if  that  brute  will  soon 
leave  town,"  he  mused,  as  he  mounted  the  private  stairs  to 
his  rooms,  where  the  alert  Hopkins  awaited  him,  with  a 
last  report  for  the  day. 

"Anything  new?"  wearily  queried  Wyman,  as  the 
young  man  handed  to  him  Captain  Haley's  note  so  disdain- 
fully returning  the  extra  check. 

"  Only  this,  sir,"  smartly  said  the  handsome  youth, who 


218  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

was  impatient  to  join  his  girl  at  a  private  dinner.  "I  got 
all  the  funds  from  Hooper,  after  a  very  strong  debate.  He 
asked  for  time,  but  I  got  his  checks,  and  went  at  once  to  the 
banks  and  cashed  them,  so  as  to  make  sure.  The  times  are 
so  ticklish  now.  Mr.  Brown  has  the  money.  I  thought 
you  would  not  want  the  checks  to  lie  uncollected.  Our 
own  bank  was  closed,  but  he  got  the  gold  into  the  vault, 
as  a  special  deposit." 

"Good!  You're  a  smart  fellow,  Hopkins,"  Wyman 
smiled.  "  Stay,  bring  me  a  blank  check  ,"  aud  he  then, 
handed  the  delighted  youth  a  welcome  bonus  of  six 
months' salary.  "How  did  they  pay  it?  I  was  afraid 
they  might  not  come  to  time,"  the  employer  asked. 

"Certified  checks  on  Latham's  bank,"  replied  Hop- 
kins, who  already  burned  to  cash  his  own  check.  There 
was  one  particular  flashing  diamond  in  a  jeweler's  win- 
dow near,  which  his  waiting  girl  coveted.  ' '  I  can  get 
around  there,  and  have  it  to  give  her  at  dinner,"  the  happy 
clerk  mused,  for  he  was  acting  the  part  of  assistant  hus- 
band for  a  young  beauty,  in  whose  burning  veins  ' '  the  cli- 
mate" had  poured  a  fiery  tide  of  light  and  corrupt  blood. 
She  could  not  always  find  time  to  grace  the  "  table  for  two  " 
in  that  little  private  room  at  the  "Poodle  Dog,"  at  whose 
door  so  many  light  feet  have  waited,  in  trembling  haste, 
till  the  security  of  the  interior  left  the  secret  of  their  stolen 
kisses  safe,  at  least  for  a  time,  in  one  of  San  Francisco's  little 
quiet  restaurants. 

Frederick  Wyman  sat  alone  gazing  in  mute  inquiry,  at 
the  attractive  loveliness  of  the  strange  woman  who  had 
ruled  him,  vicariously,  for  ten  years.  It  seemed  to  him 
to-night  poor  and  tawdry,  even  in  the  glowing  opulence  of 
her  all  too  evident  charms,  gleaming  there  above  him,  on 
the  florid  ceiling  fresco.  In  the  full  tide  of  the  passionate 
delights  of  possession,  it  had  never  occurred  to  the  man, 


A   VANISHED    GODDBSS.  219 

proud  of  the  clouded  social  eclat  of  her  mastery,  that  he 
might  ever  tire  of  Vinnie  Hinton!  But,  he  was  restless 
and  impatient  on  this  night,  as  he  twisted  up  Haley's  re- 
turned bank  check  and  lit  a  cigar  with  it  after  his 
dinner. 

''Shall  I,  must  I  give  her  up  now,"  he  thought.  "  What 
am  I  to  do  with  you,  Vinnie?"  and  he  glowered  viciously 
above,  and  he  saw  the  "half-cryin'  eyes"  shining  steadily 
down  from  above.  ' '  She  will  be  a  very  devil  to  pacify  if 
she  finds  this  out,  this  musical  adventure  of  mine,"  and,  on 
his  listening  nerves,  strained  in  all  the  delightful  antici- 
pation of  a  would-be  lover,  the  silvery  voice  of  this  un- 
spoiled child  of  song,  seemed  to  again  rise  in  the  joyous 
carol  of  her  virginal  freshness.  The  wonderful  gleaming 
sapphire  eyes  were  shining  kindly  on  him  from  the  blue 
cloud  mists  of  graceful  wreathing  smoke.  Again  he 
could  hear  her  low  whisper: 

"  Till  to-morrow,  then.  Oh,  I  will  sing  for  you,  yes! 
until  you  are  tired  of  hearing  me!"  For  hope  had  inspired 
her. 

"  I  will  not  be  very  soon  tired,  I  will  promise  you,"  he 
had  most  gallantly  replied, but  now,  the  throbbing  pulses 
in  every  vein,  told  him  that  he  only  waited  to  see  the 
flush  of  awakened  passion  tint  that  St.  Cecelia  face,  to  see 
a  meaning  thrill  in  her  sparkling  eyes,  to  feel  her  soft 
arms  around  his  neck,  to  strain  her  to  his  fiery  bosom,  and 
to  hear  her  murmur,  ' « I  love  you,  I  love  you. " 

He  was  swept  away  in  this  delicious  dream.  "By 
heaven,  she  is  a  woman!  Not  a  mere  worn-out  shell  of 
shapely  form,  fit  for  the  automatic  display  of  laces,  jewels 
and  hardly-earned  robes.  This  girl  shall  be  mine.  Every 
smile,  every  sob,  every  sigh,  mine."  And,  with  a  deli- 
cious sense  of  his  money  power,  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
and  then  murmured,  "I  can  give  her  all  that  she  wants." 


220  MISS    DEVEREI7X    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

Ah!  How  many  a  cold-hearted  egotist  has  so  easily  sum- 
med up  alia  helpless  woman's  soul  longings?  Certain  bodily 
comforts,  varied  gewgaws  and  glittering  gear  of  the  Van- 
ity Fair  booth,  pleasures  at  call  for  a  time,  and  a  wilder- 
ness of  wasted  sighs  and  vain  regrets,  in  the  days  when 
the  sparkle  has  left  the  wine,  and  the  siren's  song  falls 
flatly  on  the  ear!  Woman-tamer,  roue,  libertine,  man  of 
the  world,  cold  social  hypocrite,  all  types  of  the  graded 
Silenus  band,  all  the  thick-lipped  sons  of  Priapus,  murmur 
in  a  leering  underestimate,  "I  can  give  her  all  she  wants;" 
and  yet,  my  masters,  never  yet  did  woman  fall  so  low, 
never  yet  was  she  so  strongly  swept  along  the  tide  of  pas- 
sion, that  the  victim  crowned  for  the  red  banquet  of  sin 
did  not  murmur  at  last,  ' '  I  would  be,  sometimes,  treated  as 
a  woman  who  had  not  given  up  every  semblance  of  woman- 
hood in  my  self  surrender," — the  eternal  craving  to  keep 
what  has  been  thrown  away!     Alas,  the  vanished  graces! 

Morani,  with  startled  eyes,  broke  in  on  his  master's  de- 
lightful reveries.  His  finger  was  on  his  lip  when  he  bad 
whispered.      * '  She's  in  there  and,  either  drunk  or  crazy ! " 

"Who?"  softly  interrogated  Wyman,  clutching  the 
valet's  hand.  Tony's  speechless  lips  quivered.  He  then 
pointed  with  uplifted  finger  to  the  lovely  picture  shining 
down  from  above !  Wyman  stood  for  one  moment  irresolute. 
He  quickly  thought  of  Bob  Haley's  fresh  insult,  of  Hooper, 
"Jim  the  Penman,"  drunken,  and  a  now  dangerous  foe, 
and  of  the  woman  whose  form  he  had  mentally  decided  to 
order  painted  out,  as  it  now  gleamed  threateningly  above 
him.  '  'But, I  must  not  quarrel  with  her  now,"  he  mused,  then 
the  portiere  was  rudely  thrown  aside,  and,  richly  dressed, 
as  if  from  a  banquet  of  the  "syndicate,"  the  woman  who 
had  coached  him  upwards,  on  his  easy  path  to  ' '  social 
honors,"  stood  before  him,  quivering  with  rage,  with 
flashing  eyes.     There  were  rich  diamonds  gleaming  on  her 


A   VANISHED    GODDESS.  221 

wrists ;  in  her  hair,  on  that  breast  which  had  pillowed  him 
so  often.  She  laughed  defiantly  as  she  picked  up  Gladys 
Lyndon's  picture,  the  one  so  easily  surrendered  by  that 
graceful  Madame  Pandarus,  Mrs.  Milly  Hammond. 

"Ah!  Lyndon,  Gladys,  to  be  first  favorite,  vice  Hin- 
ton,  Vinnie,  *  removed  for  cause,'  you  are  a  nice  one!  I 
saw  you  hanging  over  that  stringy-looking  girl's  hand  in 
the  park  this  afternoon.  Don't  deny  it,"  she  said  coolly, 
as  she  appropriated  a  cigarette,  and  a  glass  of  pousse  cafe 
brandy.  "  Your  beautiful  society  jackal,  Mrs.  Hammond, 
is  running  her  in  for  you.  Fred!  You're  a  fool ! "  the  half 
tipsy  woman  said.  ( 1 1  came  down  here  to  quarrel  with  you, 
but,  you  are  not  worth  the  powder,"  she  sneered.  "Now 
I  have  covered  up  all  your  rascality  for  years.  I  have 
made  a  half-way  gentleman  of  you.  You  now  throw  me 
over,  without  a  single  word,  for  that  cheese-faced  girl,  a 
frozen  enigma  to  you,  whose  blood  may  be  ice-water,  as 
well  as  ditch-water.  She  is  a  pauper,  an  adventuress. 
She  will  pay  you  out!  " 

* '  Stop !  Stop  right  there ! "  cried  Wyman,  his  face 
livid. 

"Why  so?"  his  lovely  tormentor  continued,  "you  are 
the  very  last  man  I  fear.  You  are  a  coward,  and, you  know 
it.  If  you  bluff  me,  the  whole  world  will  soon  know  it,  too. 
That's  a  great  difference  to  you,  my  boy,"  and  Vinnie  Hin- 
ton  crossed  her  shapely  legs,  and  blew  her  cigarette  smoke 
impudently,  in  his  face.  "  Your  unexplored  regions  seem 
to  be  a  fairyland  to  you.  Va  bene !  you  worship  what 
you  know  not  of — the  charm  of  mystery.  This  girl  you 
would  drag  down  to  my  level.  She  tempts  you,  for  she 
possesses  yet  that  '  shop  seal '  of  nature,  the  negative 
charm  of  unsullied  virtue.  Do  you  reflect  that  she  may 
not  be  so  ready  to  fall  into  your  arms?  She  may  wish  to 
keep  her  '  ten  talents '  still  buried  in  the  dreamy  inertia  of 


222  MISS    DEVEKEUX    OF    THE    MAKIQUITA. 

unspotted  womanhood.  But  you  would  like  to  set  the 
whole  machinery  of  love  in  motion,  to  see  the  thrill  of 
passion  leaping  through  this  clock-work,  golden-love 
machine.  Fool,  the  dupe  of  your  own  jaded  conceit, 
your  frosty  virgin  will  lead  you  a  gay  dance!  Now,  I  will 
gladly  abdicate!  I  will  step  down  and  out,  for, I  am  going 
to  leave  this  gay  and  festive  scene."  Vinnie  peeped  from 
picture  to  picture,  and  tripped  lightly  around  the  room, 
with  a  studied  purpose  to  exasperate  him.  He  was  raging 
with  passion, under  ail  affected  calm. 

"You  said  once,  that  you  would  do  something  for  me,  if 
I  asked  you,  Fred.  Do  it  quick  then!  For,  I'm  going 
away  on  the  quiet." 

"And,  you'll  let  me  alone  after  this?"  questioned 
Wyman. 

"You  are  a  damned  fool  to  ask  me  any  questions!  First, 
you  know  me  to  the  core;  second,  I  could  lie  to  you  if  I 
cared  to.  You  must  now  square  yourself  with  your  own 
sense  of  decency.  A  little  money  would  be  just  now  a 
help." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  queried  the  frightened  capi- 
talist, as  she  gazed  with  scornful  eyes  at  Gladys  Lyndon's 
picture  there  before  her,  in  its  clinging  robes  of  white. 

"None  of  your  business.  I  efface  myself  for  good! 
That's  the  French  of  it,  and  a  fact." 

Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  tapped  his  bell,  and  quietly  said 
to  Morani:  "Wait  here  with  this  lady."  He  returned  in 
a  few  moments,  and  then  placed  two  compact  bundles 
before  Vinnie  Hinton,  when  the  Leperello  had  vanished. 

"There's  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  four  per  cent, 
coupon  bonds,  Vinnie,"  he  kiudly  said.  "They  are  good 
all  the  world  over,  not  registered,  and  will  net  you 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  Stay!  read  me  off  these 
numbers,"  and, while  the  wondering  woman  quickly  called 


A   VANISHED    GODDESS.  228 

off  the  numbers,  Wyman  drew  up  a  little  memorandum  of 
a  stock  transaction  and  certified  to  the  delivery  of  the 
bonds,  by  number. 

"I  have  left  the  name  blank,"  he  smiled.  "You  can 
till  in  any  name  you  care  to.  You'll  have  no  trouble  now 
in  negotiating  them.  Here  is  also,  a  little  bit  of  pin 
money."  Wyman  placed  a  packet  of  gold  notes  before 
her.  "  There's  fifteen  hundred  dollars  ready  money,  all 
I  had  here.  The  banks  are  all  shut."  Vinnie  Hinton 
stood  laughing  on  her  tip-toes,  at  his  side.  She  bent  down, 
and  kissed  him  softly. 

"Fred,  you  are  a  gentlemen,  and  a  scholar!  You  are  a 
fraud,  I  am  a  fraud,  we  are  all  frauds  out  here,  but  you 
have  'risen  to  the  occasion,'  as  Brother  Beecher  would 
gracefully  say.  Now  that  we  are  quits  and  square,  old 
boy,  I  will  tell  you  it's  a  straight  skip!  There  will  be  a 
little  racket,  of  course,  in  the  morning  papers,  but  you,  of 
all  men,  will  keep  quiet.  Now,  my  dear  boy,  as  they  say 
in  the  drama,  'time  presses!  '" 

Wyman  caught  her  for  the  last  time  in  his  arms.  He 
was  intoxicated  by  the  personal  atmosphere,  which  had 
drawn  him  so  often  down  in  abject  slavery  to  her  shapely 
feet.  He  had  groveled  before  her,  worshiping  her  blindly 
in  his  passionate  abandonment,  and  now  that  she  was 
going,  he  was  loth  to  lose  this  sleek,  tiger-like  demon  of 
the  velvet  skin. 

"Well,  for  this  occasion  only! "  she  laughed,  and  then, 
taking  his  head  in  her  hands,  for  he  had  knelt  once  again 
before  her,  and  his  face  was  hidden  in  her  clinging  silks 
and  laces :  "I  believe  that  you  begin  to  be  a  bit  sorry 
already.  I  shall  be  glad  to  remember  you  then  as  more 
of  a  fool  than  I  thought.  It  is  a  shake  and  break  away, 
but,  the  divided  path  lies  forever  before  us,  Fred.  It  is 
a   case   of   Hobson's    choice.     I  can't  leave  one  man   in 


2LM  KISS    DEVEEEUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

the  world  who  is  in  trouble,  for,  poor  apology  of  man- 
hood as  he  is,  drunken  Jimmie  Hooper  would  blow  his 
brains  out,  on  my  door- step,  if  I  left  him  in  the  lurch, 
when  the  tide  is  running  dead  strong  against  him,  and  so 
we  are  going  to  chance  it  together.  Good  luck  to  your 
white-f aced  girl,  and  you ! "  She  turned  and  caught  up  a 
glass  from  Morani's  tray,  for  he  had  executed  his  standing 
order  of  a  chilled  bottle  of  Pommery  sec.  "Here's  to 
crime!"  said  Vinnie,  as  she  gaily  drained  the  glass  and 
then  hurled  the  ringing  crystal  into  the  blazing  grate, 
where  it  lay  unbroken.  With  laughing  eyes  she  cried : 
"That's  a  piece  of  crazy  good  luck."  She  kissed  Wyman, 
madly  winding  her  arms  around  him.  "Good-bye,  Fred," 
she  whispered  through  her  tears,  and  then  passed  out 
humming  softly   her  old  refrain : 

"And  when,  perchance  some  other  lover, 

Shall  claim  the  heart  that  I  resign, 
And  in  exulting  joys  discover, 

The  charms  which  now  are  mine. " 

She  was  singing  on  her  way  down  the  stair  which  she 
would  never  tread  again. 

Wyman  sprang  after  her,  but  the  rattle  of  a  coupe 
wheel  told  him  that  she  was  too  quick  for  him.  A  great 
flood  of  old-time  memories  choked  him,  as  he  watched  the 
open  door  where  she  had  vanished — forever. 

"Morani,"  sternly  said  Wyman,  as  he  handed  him  a 
half  handful  of  loose  gold,  "here,  follow  her  all  night, 
and  that  fellow,  Hooper,  too.  Don't  spare  any  money! 
Don't  interfere,  but,  let  me  know  to-morrow  where  they 
go,  and  all  about  it."  The  valet  caught  up  his  hat  and 
coat  and  was  away  like  a  flash.  Wyman  dropped  his  head 
on  his  hands.  "  Vinnie!  "  he  murmured,  but  he  could  not 
call  her  back.  Her  eyes,  glowing  on  the  ceiling,  spoke  a 
last,  mute  farewell. 


A.    VANISHED    GODDESS.  225 

It  was  a  tribute  to  the  fascination  of  the  departed,  that  Fred- 
erick Wyman  slept  but  little  that  night.  "What  can  be  the 
reason  of  this  sudden  flight?"  he  cried,  and  paced  the  floor 
long  in  doubt.  He  was  happy  to  be  positive  that  the  checks  of 
Hooper  were  all  cashed  in  due  order.  "  All  is  straight  as 
a  string  there.  What  can  be  up?  "  and  yet,  he  lingered  in 
entire  ignorance  until  the  return  of  Morani,  hollow-eyed 
and  nervous,  at  half-past  nine  the  next  morning.  The  little 
arch  devil  slipped  up  to  his  master  who  was  receiving 
Bookkeeper  Brown's  first  reports. 

"  Mexican  steamer,  nine  o'clock!  Both  disguised. 
Hooper  and  the  Madame  sailed — I  saw  them  off,  and  gave 
them  the  slip  all  right.  They've  taken  all  her  valuables. 
I  guess  that  he  has  nothing  of  his  own,  and  her  maid  is 
left   to  liquidate,  and   close   out   her   <  museum '  of   high 

art." 

"Nevermind  that  change,  you  have  well  earned  it," 
cried  Wyman.  "  Keep  a  shut  mouth,  and  fit  me  up  now. 
I  had  my  breakfast  at  Marchand's.  Emil  told  me  she  was 
in  there  at  two  o'clock  last  night  with  the  Senator." 

'  "That  was  only  a  throw-off,"  jovially  cried  Morani,  as 
he  disappeared  to  prepare  his  master  for  the  eyes  of  the 
singing  lark.      That  breakfast! 

Wyman  heard  the  boys  crying,  "Extra!  Extra!  Failure 
of  Hooper,  Bowen  &  Co.!  Heavy  forgeries!  Panic  on  the 
stock  market!"  in  a  harsh  uproar,  as  he  rode  along  Kearney 
street,  with  only  ten  minutes  to  spare  to  reach  Madame 
Hilly  Hammond's  golden  spider  parlor.  Throwing  the 
first  boy  a  half-dollar,  he  glanced  his  eyes  to  the  brief  pub- 
lished accounts.  "Ah!"  his  eyes  gleamed.  "She  is 
after  all  the  queen  of  the  turf.  I  must  keep  silent,"  for 
the  raising  of  certified  checks  to  a  huge  amount,  had  been 
the  neat  trick  by  which  Mr.  James  Walter  Hooper  had  ob- 
tained the   funds  to   pay   Wyman's    suddenly   drawn  in 


226  MISS    DEVERETJX    OF   THE   MARIQTTITA. 

account.  With  all  remaining  deposits,  trust  funds  and 
the  extra  amount  after  paying  Wyman,  Hooper  had  prob- 
ably "  cleared  out"  with  several  hundred  'thousand  dol- 
lars ! 

"I  see  the  whole  game!  He  intended  to  give  me, 
too,  the  slip.  But,  the  Mexican  steamer  Avas  their  only  safe 
chance.  There's  no  extradition  treaty  there.  She  is,  of 
course,  innocent  and  will  transact  the  necessary  money 
business  and  handle  the  secret  funds.  Now  I  am  safe  for- 
ever!" he  exulted,  "  for,  neither  of  them  will  ever  dare  to 
return.  I  will  keep  my  own  mouth  shut.  This  is  the  last 
of  the  cursed  '  Mariquita '  business.  It  seals  up  Devereux's 
tomb  forever! " 

With  glowing  eyes,  he  rode  on,  his  carriage  spattering 
a  shower  of  mud  over  Mr.  Waldo  Strong,  who,  anxious-eyed, 
was  crossing  on  foot  at  Sutter  street. 

"  I  will  hound  you  down  yet,  you  vile  scoundrel!"  mut- 
tered Strong,  as  he  turned  and  cursed  the  flying  lover,  al- 
ready in  the  distance. 

But  Wyman  was  only  murmuring :  "  Vinnie  is  after  all  a 
dead  game  girl,  and  I  will  not  paint  out  her  face  on  my 
ceiling.  The  form  alone  is  worth  all  the  money  it  cost. 
It  is  matchless;"  and  so  he  sighed  for  the  departed. 


AFTER   THE    STORM.  227 


CHAPTER  IX. 

After  The  Storm. 

Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  carried  the  impending  curse  of 
his  defeated  enemy  very  lightly,  as  he  dashed  swiftly  along 
Sutter  street  on  his  way  to  the  breakfast.  He  was,  how- 
ever, now  confronted  with  a  serious  dilemma.  His  own 
social  experience  had  not  led  him  into  an  intimate  associa- 
tion with  many  refined  and  innocent  women.  Somewhat 
uncertain  as  to  the  offerings  at  the  shrine  of  Diana,  he  was 
at  a  loss  how  to  shape  his  course  in  regard  to  the  meeting 
with  Gladys  Lyndon.  The  mere  fact  of  the  field  being 
free,  the  happy  eclipse  of  the  vanished  goddess,  these  were 
after  all  but  negative  points  in  his  favOr,in  the  coming  cam- 
paign. He  was  dimly  conscious  that  the  young  singer 
walked  far  above  him  "  on  the  heights."  Pure  and  white 
as  the  edelweiss  of  the  Alpine  snow  crags,  the  fair  dove 
hovered  far  above  him  and,  was  not  yet,  a  fond  dove. 

Though  the  Bonanza  capitalist  had  been  greatly  hard- 
ened by  the  habitual  domination  of  the  fast  set  he  moved 
in,  though  he  was  an  agnostic  at  heart,  as  regarded  all 
womanly  virtue,  he  was  nevertheless  keenly  intelligent. 
He  felt  that,  as  a  matter  of  mere  prudence,  he  must  affect 
what  he  possessed  not,  some  manly  ardor  and  delicacy. 
His  lonely  life  also,  had  militated  against  him.  He  had 
never  met  the  proud,  refined  woman  of  high  class  in  the 
distant  border  state,  which  his  youthful  rashness  had 
driven  him  from.  Guilty  as  he  was,  he  suffered  with 
all  the  "war  generation"  of  the  south,  in  having  had  no 
home  life,   no  true   womanly   affection   near   him.      The 


228  MISS    DEVEBEUX    OF    THE    MAEIQUITA. 

coarse  realism  of  life  in  Virginia  City  had  only  dragged 
him  further  down.  The  raffish,  stuffy  half  elegance  of 
the  life  he  led  in  San  Francisco,  merely  showed  him  the 
shadow  side  of  womanhood. 

Even  the  men  of  some  local  mark  whom  he  met  at  the 
clubs,  were  vainly  sensual,  and  most  brutally  direct  in  their 
personal  manners.  Books  he  was  a  stranger  to,  and  the 
unreal  glimpses  of  stage  life  which  he  had  seen,  made  him 
but  too  familiar  with  the  "  blind  side "  of  the  woman 
nature.  The  opened  shrine-gate  of  the  passions, 
,"Camille,"  "  East  Lynne,"  "  Frou-Frou,"  '"  Article 
47,"  and  the  other  lurid  emotional  dramas  suited  to  the 
western  stage,  had  given  him  but  the  strangest  glimpses 
of  "sweet  belles"  jangled  out  of  tune,  the  heroines  were 
women  all  at  war  with  every  bright  promise  of  their  youth. 

"  I  must  go  along  slowly  here,"  he  mused,  "  and,  advise 
with  Mrs.  Hammond."  To  this  end,  he  drew  aside  that 
highly  decorated  chatelaine  into  the  conservatory,  on  his 
entrance,  and  murmured  an  earnest  request  for  her  expe- 
rienced guidance. 

"You  are  very  wise,  Fred,"  the  lady  gasped,  as  she  re- 
leased herself  among  the  roses,  who  blushed  a  bit  for  this 
and  other  sights  they  had  often  seen.  "  Gladys  is  coming 
in  a  few  moments.  Be  very,  very  cautious.  She  is  good, 
shy,  and  really  very  delicate  minded.  Beware  of  startling 
her  inexperience.  You  have  her  respect  now.  It  may 
be  fanned  into  a  warmer  confidence.  It  rests  with  you  to 
rule  her  heart  by  your  princely  generosity.  Be  very  wary, 
though.  One  thing,  above  all,  she  was  raised  in  strict 
seclusion.  Her  childhood  was  an  unhappy  one,  shaded 
with  many  sorrows,  so  you  must  not  blunder  along  into 
any  family  questions,  or  call  up  her  past  in  any  way.  She 
was  educated  in  an  orphan  institution." 

Catholic    or    Protestant?"    quickly    questioned    the 


a 


AFTER    THE    STORM.  229 

miner,  as  he  heard  a  light  foot  sounding  on  the  stairs. 
Ah!  the  listening  stag  is  no  keener  than  the  lover  to  the 
first  sound  of  the  coming  one! 

"  Catholic!"  gravely  remarked  Mrs.  Milly  Hammond, 
as  her  ready  society  smile  spread  out  in  a  heavenly  aureole 
over  her  anxious  face.  The  immediate  bustle  of  the 
duties  of  hospitality  enabled  her  to  leave  the  young  man 
at  once  alone  with  the  gentle  singer.  After  a  half  hour, 
Mrs.  Hammond,  under  her  veiled  lashes,  looked  out  upon 
the  status  of  the  millionaire  guest  with  secretly  happy 
eyes,  for,  in  an  easy  and  natural  manner,  Gladys  Lyndon 
had  led  Wyman  on  to  speak  of  the  great  mining  town, 
hanging  high  in  air  beyond  the  sparkling  Sierras.  It  was 
a  welcome  topic  to  him.  Secure  in  his  audience,  devoid 
of  competition,  he  spoke  well,  and  led  the  girl  along  into 
well-pictured  scenes  of  the  wild  mountain  life.  With  a 
sympathy  which  excited  the  passions  pulsing  behind  his 
words,  Wyman  listened  to  the  frank  avowals  of  the 
bright-browed  singer,  in  which  her  single  aim  of  life 
shone  out  in  hopeful  wishes  pointing  far  beyond  the 
Atlantic. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  Frederick  Wyman  was  led  out  of 
his  bitter  past,  his  soiled  daily  life,  into  a  land  of  light 
and  dreams,  when  the  girl,  with  her  whole  heart  in  her 
voice,  sang  for  him  with  a  rising  hope  in  her  eyes  and  a 
craving  in  her  lonely  heart  for  that  help  which  now  seemed 
so  far  away,  since  Waldo  Strong  had  frankly  confessed 
his  financial  ruin. 

Under  the  spell  of  her  fresh  beauty,  thrilled  by  her 
voice,  which  found  its  way  into  the  innermost  recesses  of  his 
heart,  his  eye  resting  upon  the  rapt  loveliness  of  her  beau- 
tiful face,  in  its  highest  soul  expression,  Wyman  was 
now  quivering  in  every  nerve,  and  tempted  to  cast  him- 
self down  at  the  feet  of  this  new  goddess  of  youth  and 


230  MISS    DEVEBEUX    OF   THE   MABIQUITA. 

life's  freshest  spring,  when  the  restrained  force  of  Mrs. 
Hammond  broke  in  upon  these  golden  moments.  She 
entered  the  room  with  an  anxious  brow. 

"It  seemed  so  important,  I  dared  not  linger.  Your 
man  is  here,  Mr.  Wyman,  with  a  most  important  com- 
munication requiring  immediate  action."  The  hostess 
sighed  as  she  realized  the  possible  jeopardy  of  her  prom- 
ised diamond  ring,  but,  with  a  grave  bow,  Wyman  had 
now  retired  to  the  hall  where  Morani's  frightened  face 
called  for  no  reproaches.     Again,  the  unexpected! 

"Mr.  Wilder!  Half  crazy  sir!  You  must  come  down 
home  at  once."  And  the  master  opening  the  note  which 
his  valet  gave  him,  then  turned  pale,  and  leaned  against 
the  wall  in  a  sudden  spasm  of  weakness.  ' '  Come  at 
once!  The  bank  is  in  danger.  You  will  not  have  an  hour 
to  act  in,  I  am  afraid,  for  the  run  is  already  a  hot  one. 
Looks  as  if  the  whole  town  was  going  to  hell!"  The 
scrawled  name  "Wilder"  served  to  prove  that  it  was 
not  a  passing  phantasm.  Leaping  lightly  back  into  the 
salon,  Wyman  approached  the  white  queen,  who  had 
risen  in  alarm  at  his  changed  face. 

"You  will  hear  from  me,  my  dear  young  lady,  at  once, 
through  Mrs.  Hammond,  I  have  the  deepest,  the  very 
warmest  interest  in  your  future  career,  I  assure  you. 
Let  me  only  have  the  honor  of  meeting  you  here  on  your 
return. "  His  cold  hand  pressed  hers  convulsively,  and  then, 
he  stooped  and  picked  up  a  rose  which  had  fallen  from 
Gladys  Lyndon's  bosom.  Their  eyes  met,  and  the  fair 
girl's  cheek  glowed,  as  he  touched  it  lightly  and  reverently 
with  his  lips.  "  I  will  keep  this  as  a  pledge  that  I  shall 
see  you  soon  again."  One  kindly  glance  from  her  eyes 
told  him  of  a  newly  dawning  hope  in  that  frightened  girl's 
fluttering  bosom,  that  her  way  upwards  might  be  made 
smooth.     When  she  had   drawn  the  second  breath,    and 


AFTER   THE   STORM.  231 

raised  her  eyes,  she  was  left  alone!      In  the  hall,  Wyman 
confusedly  murmured: 

"Milly,  for  God's  sake!  Hold  that  girl,  as  she  is, 
keep  my  face,  my  interest,  my  usefulness,  before  her. 
I've  got  to  race  away, for  the  devil  has  broken  loose!  "  And 
he  whispered  in  her  ear,  a  sentence,  which  made  her  reel, 
worldling  as  she  was,  "The  Bank  of  California  is  going 
to  fail!"  Then  in  a  hot  whisper,  he  pleaded,  "Come 
down  to  my  rooms  and  dine  with  me,  alone  at  seven. 
My  man  will  wait  at  the  private  entrance."  The  woman's 
knees  smote  together,  and  her  facile  face  crimsoned,  as 
she  faltered : 

"Fred,  I  dare  not.  Think  of  my  name,  what  I  risk. 
Anything  but  that." 

"By  Heaven!  I'll  be  your  friend  for  life.  I'll  bring 
you  home  myself.  I'll  stand  by  you  forever.  Milly!  I 
must  have  that  girl  for  my  own,  my  very  own!  I'll  do 
anything  in  God's  world  for  you."  The  fierce  promise 
of  his  eyes  was  so  emphatic,  so  passionate  that  the 
weaker  one  dropped  her  eyes  at  last,  and  murmured  in  a 
frightened  whisper:    "I  will  come!" 

He  snatched  her  hand,  and  kissed  it  eagerly  a  dozen 
times,  and  springing  down  the  steps,  he  shouted,  "to 
Wilder's  office!     On  the  dead  run." 

"Tony,"  he  murmured  hoarsely,  as  he  turned  to  his 
man,  who  had  leaped  in  beside  him,  at  a  sign,  "I'll  let 
you  jump  out  at  Kearney  and  Sutter;  get  Brown,  with  his 
bankbooks  and  all  of  his  cash  accounts,  instantly  down  to 
Wilder's  office.  Don't  lose  a  single  moment  for  your  very 
life!"  and  his  own  heart  kept  time  to  each  spring  of  the 
maddened  horses,  lashed  along  the  sloping  street,  until, 
from  a  half  block  distant,  he  saw  an  excited  knot  of  men, 
checks  in  hand,  barring  the  doors  of  the  olive  sandstone 
money  palace,  where  King  Gold  had  ruled  for  so  many 
years  with  a  rod  of  iron. 


232  MISS   DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

From  lip  to  lip  the  fatal  words  flew:  "The  Bank  of 
California  is  in  danger!"  and,  there  was  a  fervent  zeal  in 
Wyman's,  "Thank  God,"  as  his  cashier  entered  Wilder's 
back  room  with  Morani,  who  had  quickly  caught  up  a 
couple  of  the  office  force,  and  then  flying  fingers  were 
soon  tracing  checks,  which  Hopkins  and  Wilder's  clerks 
fled  away  to  cash  at  once. 

Afar  in  the  Van  Ness  avenue  house,  Gladys  Lyndon  sat 
alone,  still  dreaming  at  the  piano,  her  slender  hands  wander- 
ing lightly  over  the  keys  as  she  played  one  of  Mendelssohn's 
exquisite  "Lieder  ohne  Worte."  "He  seems  so  good,  so 
true,  so  ardent,  so  noble.  He  may  perhaps  help  me." 
The  girl's  eyes  were  now  very  dreary,  and  her  breast  rose 
and  fell  in  soft  languor.  She  was  only  a  friendless  girl, 
an  uncrowned  Esther  before  a  stranger  Ahasuerus,  and, 
in  a  timid  honesty  of  purpose,  the  pearls  of  her  soul  had 
been  cast  at  the  feet  of  a  stranger,  whose  magic  gold 
might  fare  her  forth  to  honor,  to  future  glory,  to  fame, 
to  the  laurels  which  her  fair  brow  dreamed  of  that  night, 
on  the  pillow  of  innocence.  Ah!  the  bright  days  of  youth's 
fond  dreams. 

Above,  in  her  own  room,  startled  and  roused  by  a  nervous 
exaltation  which  carried  her  far  away  from  the  double  life 
she  had  long  led,  Milly  Hammond's  face  was  haggard  and 
anxious,  as,  with  folded  hands,  she  wept  bitter,  bitter 
tears,  for  even  she,  bold  as  she  was,  had  now  gone  out 
beyond  her  depth,  away  out  beyond  the  breaker  line.  There 
was  no  going  back  now,  and,  a  spectral  finger  madly 
beckoned  her  on  forward.  "My  God!  to  be  forever- 
more  in  his  power;  and,  Gladys!"  The  hollow-hearted 
society  parasite,  in  a  storm  of  tears,  owned  to  her  own  ac- 
cusing heart  that  she  was  cruelly  leading  the  tender  one, 
the  gentle  one,  this  blind  Nydia  of  innocence,  outward, 
downward,  into    the    thickest    gloom,    into   the   viewless 


AFTER    THE    STORM.  233 

shadows  of  sin.  "  It  is  a  hell  on  earth,  this  sham  life  I 
lead,"  the  velvet-eyed  woman  owned  bitterly  in  this  intro- 
spective hour. 

And  yet,  the  hour-glass  had  been  turned  but  a  few 
times,  before,  with  a  cautious  elastic  step  and  furtively 
glancing  eyes,  in  a  studied  toilet  of  degagee  elegance,  Milly 
Hammond  glided  silently  into  the  dark  hallway  where 
Morani  stood  on  watch,  awaiting  her  light  steps.  "I 
could  not  go  back,"  she  murmured,  gaining  courage  on 
the  stair,  and  Frederick  Wyman,  glittering-eyed  and 
joyously  happy  at  his  recovered  bank  deposits,  smiled  in 
a  delicious  self-abandonment  of  pride  and  vanity,  as  he 
gazed  at  the  exquisite  dinner  service  laid  for  two,  for 
his  quick  ear  had  caught  the  rustle  of  Milly  Hammond's 
robes,  and  he  sprang  to  meet  her  in  a  joy  he  could  not 
conceal. 

"You  are  the  dearest  little  woman  on  the  golden 
shore,"  he  cried,  and,  strangely,  Milly  Hammond  forgot 
the  voice  which  had  just  waked  her  better  nature,  and  the 
roses  in  her  bosom  were  dashed  with  sparkling  wine,  as 
the  silver  chime  of  the  clock  told  of  the  slowly  drawn-out 
hours  of  that  never-forgotten  little  private  banquet.  Wy- 
man, looking  in  triumph  into  her  burning  eyes,  saw  far 
beyond  these  happy  moments  the  sparkling  gleam  of  the 
blue  eyes  of  the  queen  of  song  to  be. 

San  Francisco  was  in  a  wild  tumult  on  the  evening  when 
Wyman  and  Milly  Hammond  in  their  stolen  hours  ex- 
changed glowing  glances  over  the  wine  goblet,  for,  while 
life  and  passion  swept  them  on,  Hopkins  and  Cashier 
Brown  toiled  late  in  the  private  office,  Morani,  guard  as 
well  as  ganymede,  repelled  all  intrusion,  while  a  private 
policeman,  at  each  street  entrance,  absolutely  denied  admit- 
tance to  all.  But  one  person  had  the  "open  sesame."  It 
was  Horace  Wilder,  whose  twenty  clerks  were  working  all 


234  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

night  in  running  up  the  lightning  change  stock  accounts  of 
the  firm's  customers.  Wyman  gloried  in  the  luxurious 
ease  of  his  safe  hiding  place  and  the  inspiring  company  of 
Mrs.  Milly  Hammond,  who  now  "snatched  a  fearful  joy" 
while  queening  it  in  the  harem  bower,  which  the  vanished 
Vinnie  Hinton  would  never  more  enter.  Wyman,  safely 
sheltered  from  the  financial  storm,  had  now  told  the  new 
partner  of  his  bosom  of  the  definite  obscuration  of  that 
bright  star  who  had  so  long  there  ruled  supreme.  "It  is 
a  night  of  all  nights  to  me,  and,  Milly,  now  that  you  have 
cast  away  your  childish  fears,  see  the  future  stretching  out 
bright  before  you." 

They  reveled  in  the  luxurious  joys  of  these  stolen  hours, 
delicious] y  crowned  with  a  guilty  secret,  whose  thrill  was 
enhanced  by  the  difficulty  and  danger.  Mobs  were  loud 
without,  the  tramping  feet  of  guards  and  militia  resounded 
below  them,  for  the  great  bank  had  at  last  closed  its  doors! 
Their  loud  clang  that  day  shook  every  firmly  poised  for- 
tune on  the  golden  shores.  Business  offices  were  all 
agleam  with  lights,  and  late  into  the  night,  toiled  the  anx- 
ious sons  of  Mammon,  preparing  for  the  doubtful  morrow. 

Wyman' s  bark  rode  lightly,  high  above  the  financial 
storm.  Wilder  had  stolen  in  twice  or  thrice,  to  say  that 
all  was  looking  well,  and  to  confer  with  the  confidential 
workers  in  the  outer  office.  "The panic  will  stop  here,  if 
no  other  banks  go,"  whispered  Wilder,  "but,  the  king  has 
abdicated.  The  noblest  Roman  of  them  all  has  laid  down 
the  golden  truncheon.  A  man  whose  slightest  wish  opened 
every  purse  yesterday,  is  to-night  seated  in  his  half-fin- 
ished palace,  deserted  by  his  fair-weather  friends,  and 
writhing  in  the  gloom  and  shadows  of  defeat,  heartbreak 
and  woe.     The  king  has  lost  his  throne ! " 

"Did  you  get  all  your  own  checks  in,  Wilder?"  anx- 
iously queried  Wyman,  anxious  to  return  to  where  the  vel- 
vet eyes  gleamed  hotly  for  him,  behind  the  arras. 


AFTER    THE    STORM.  235 

"Oh,  yes!"  laughed  Wilder,  "I  had  the  first  private 
tip.  For  a  week,  I  have  cashed  in  at  once  all  my  checks 
on  the  Bank  of  California.  I  knew  that  it  was  life  or 
death  with  Ralston;    I  took  no  chances." 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me?  "  hotly  cried  Wyman. 

"  I  did  not  dare  to,"  said  Wilder,  frankly.  "  It  might 
have  cost  me  my  life.  I  knew,  too,  that  you  were  all 
safe.  I  would  have  warned  you  sooner,  but  the  run  came 
even  quicker  than  I  thought.  For  two  days,  in  a  certain 
office,  checks  were  being  cashed,  and  the  coin  tied  up  in 
vaults  to  throw  Ralston  down  and  weaken  the  bank,  but  there 
will  be  plenty  of  coin  in  town  in  two  days!  The  mint  is 
running  night  and  day  on  twenty-dollar  pieces,  and  there  is 
the  sum  of  nine  millions  in  gold  bars  there,  to  be  run  out 
for  i  Big  Four  '—your  own  Nevada  wonders." 

"  And,  what  will  become  of  the  noble-hearted  Ralston?  " 
demanded  Wyman. 

"Ah !  God  only  knows.  He  is  the  one  lion  in  a  gang  of 
jackals,  and  he  is  being  done  to  death  in  the  house  of  his 
friends.  By  the  way,  Wyman,  there  is  a  secret  conference 
to-night  about  those  checks  of  Hooper's.  The  police  can't 
find  him,  and  you  may  be  called  up  and  questioned.  See 
your  lawyer  and  say  nothing !  " 

Wyman  smiled  slyly. 

"Thank  you,  Horace,  I  will  be  watching  here  all  day 
to-morrow.  Brown,  Hopkins,  Morani,  will  come  to  you, 
and  they  will  have  my  cipher  card.  Trust  nothing,  now, 
but  that.  I  have  my  own  lawyer  in  here,  now."  Wilder 
fled  away,  as  Wyman,  laughing,  with  eager  foot,  sprang 
into  the  curtained  room,  where  the  soft,  rounded  arms 
of  "  his  lawyer,"  drew  him  down  to  a  bosom  now  all  his 
own,  for  a  common  self -surrender  to  the  wild  joys  of  the 
mad  hour  had  made  them  one  in  their  purpose  of  drifting, 
drifting  out  on  the  purple  tide  of  passion.  It  was  enough, 
that  one  night,  to  taste  the  joys  of  life  and  love  ! 


236  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE   MARIQUITA. 

But  the  midnight  oil  was  burned  in  Waldo  Strong's  lonely- 
office,  where  his  grave  face  shone  out  even  graver  in  the 
shadows  of  the  disaster,  which  had  swept  away  his  own 
fortune  and  left  his  friends  wrecked.  He  had  nothing  left, 
save  the   capital  underlying   his  care- wrinkled  forehead. 

Silent,  stern,  and  noting  a  point  here,  a  clue  there,  the 
cold  lawyer  listened  eagerly  to  the  opinions  of  all  present  at 
the  secret  conference  of  forger  Hooper's  dupes.  The  mechan- 
ism of  the  ruin  of  the  whole  Strong  party  was  stocks,  pure 
and  simple.  It  could  not  be  denied  that  in  their  own 
eagerness  to  gain  control,  they  had  driven  the  stock  up, by 
bidding  rashly, to  treble  the  real  value  of  the  "Lone  Star." 
The  audacious  nerve  of  Wyman  (through  Wilder),  selling 
double  the  whole  issue  of  stock  as  short  sales,  was  not  a 
new  feature  in  the  crazed  antics  of  Californian  plungers. 
The  iron  trap  had  fallen  on  them.  Settlements  had  ruined 
them  all,  for  the  enormous  rise  had  called  out  all  the  float- 
ing stock,  and  Frederick  Wyman,  in  desperation,  had 
thrown  his  own  entire  interest  out  on  the  market,  break- 
ing it  to  a  nothing  and  sweeping  the  whole  stock  back  in 
a  week,  with  an  underlying  golden  residuum  of  three- 
quarter  of  a  million  dollars. 

There  was  no  tangible  general  news  of  moment,  save 
the  already  announced  placing  of  a  ten-dollar  a  share 
assessment  on  the  "Lone  Star,"  to  rebuild  the  shaft 
and  refit  the  burned-out  mine;  for,  simple-minded 
Haley  had  gone  back  mutely  to  Virginia  City,  and 
McManus,  his  successor,  now  awaited  Wyman's  call 
in  the  Bay  City.  There  was  no  mortal  eye  which  had 
rested  on  the  pale-faced  scoundrel  who  lit  the  benzine- 
soaked  timbers,  and  then  fled  away,  alone,  through  the 
darkened  tunnel.  With  a  lightning  flash,  the  flames  had 
spread,  leaping  along  the  dried  timbers  of  the  double  com- 
partment.    It  had  been  only  a  pure  loyalty  to  the  dead,  a 


AFTER    THE    STORM.  237 

deep  disgust  at  Wyman's  callous  indifference,  which  made 
Haley  so  mutely  give  up  his  trust.  Every  hour  he  gloom- 
ily thought  the  thing  over  on  his  way  back  over  the 
Sierras.  "It  was  my  own  duty  to  have  insisted  before, 
upon  escape  galleries." 

But,  when  in  the  conference,  all  of  James  Walter 
Hooper's  skillful  villainy  was  finally  unveiled,  a  new  light 
gleamed  now  upon  the  past,  which  gave  to  Waldo  Strong  the 
long-missing  clue.  All  the  disgruntled  capitalists,  brokers 
and  bank  representatives,  found  in  Hooper's  plan  only  the 
scheme  to  draw  together  a  heavy  fund  and  disappear.  As 
yet,  the  sinuous  form  of  Vinnie  Hinton  was  not  missed 
in  the  particular  "swim  "  which  she  deified,  for  her  mys- 
terious little  disappearances  were  frequent  matters  of  cur- 
rent history,  and  they  strangely  coincided  with  occasional 
movements  of  the  lords  of  the  West. 

A  widely  diffused  charity  in  such  private  matters  kept 
all  the  speakers  silent  as  to  the  vanished  goddess,  and  her 
laughing  sisters  of  that  ilk,  for  each  rosy  light  o'  love 
went  unheeded  in  the  gay  whirlpool  where  she  listed. 
Hooper  had  craftily  obtained  a  large  number  of  checks  for 
small  amounts  from  his  customers,  of  various  plethoric 
bank  accounts.  In  the  usual  run  of  large  business,  this 
attracted  no  special  attention.  They  were  all  retained, 
and  duly  certified  at  the  varied  banks.  These,  most  skill- 
fully raised  to  huge  amounts,  were  then  deposited  in  his 
own  bank.  With  his  own  checks  certified  on  these  sup- 
posed deposits,  he  had  slyly  reaped  the  golden  harvest  he 
garnered,  to  flee  away  with  one  of  these  very  checks,  for  a 
huge  amount  had  been  paid  to  Wyman  and  as  promptly 
cashed. 

When  the  conclave  broke  up,  the  disheartened  lawyer 
walked  homeward,  alone  in  the  midnight,  up  the  darkened 
California  street,  and  passed  the  doubled  militia  and  police 


238  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQTTITA. 

patrols.  Men,  fearful  of  the  coming  still  morrow,  lingered 
in  anxious  knots  and  the  clash  of  glasses  in  the  saloons 
told  of  rum,  man's  nearest  comforter,  his  ready  fiery  friend 
in  all  hours,  joy  or  woe.  The  dreaming,  lonely  street  was 
now  haunted  with  memories  of  vanished  men  who  had  given 
up  heart,  soul  and  character  in  the  struggle  for  wealth. 
On  the  shaded  recesses  of  the  huge  business  palaces  had 
hovered  scores  of  women,  bright  and  eager-eyed,  passionate- 
hearted,  whose  life,  soul  and  body,  whose  very  honor  and 
womanhood,  had  been  crushed  in  the  mire — under  the 
wheels  of  the  Juggernaut  of  stocks. 

"  I  see  it  all!"  cried  the  broken-hearted  lawyer,  as  his 
eye  rested  on  the  huge  square  tower  of  the  great  Cathedral, 
where  first  he  had  heard  Gladys  Lyndon's  soaring  voice. 
' i  I  see  it  all.  This  fellow  Bowen  and  the  convict  Hooper, 
have  evidently  been  fellow  scoundrels  with  Wyman. 
Bowen  has  drawn  out  rich;  ignorant  and  being  timid,  he 
has  sheltered  his  stealings  in  Nevada,  out  of  reach  of  our 
State  laws.  Hooper's  own  swindling  has  helped  on  this 
devil  Wyman  with  the  funds  to  break  up  our  foolish  com- 
bination in  the  stock  market.  The  forger  is  now  safely 
on  his  way  to  either  Australia,  Japan  or  Mexico  f  and  here, 
before  me,  this  villain  Wyman  now  exults  in  his  sweeping 
victory,  and  probably  shields  the  desperate  man  who  fled." 

The  deep  boom  of  the  Cathedral  bell  startled  the  lonely 
man,  who  unconsciously  murmured  'kFire!"  as  the  mid- 
night hour  began  to  run  off  its  heavy  strokes.  When  his 
startled  nerves  resumed  their  balance,  Waldo  Strong  fixed 
his  eyes  on  the  four  great  crosses,  towering  there  far  above 
him  in  the  blue  starlight,  on  the  yet  unfinished  main 
tower.  "  That's  it!  "  he  cried,  with  a  sudden  divination. 
"  Fire!  That  arch  fiend  caused  that  very  fire!  It  sent  a 
band  of  innocent  men  to  a  horrible  death.  It  has  ruined 
hundreds,  and  enriched  him.     It  has  broken  my  heart  and 


AFTER   THE   STORM.  239 

robbed  me,  too,  of  Gladys  Lyndon,  for  how  can  I  ever  ask 
her  to  share  the  only  Calif ornian  disgrace,  honest  poverty? 
It  would  doom  her  to  the  eclipse  of  her  splendid  genius." 
The  stern  man  softened  as  he  muttered,  "My  poor  darling! 
There  are  all  paths  ready  for  your  feet,  shaded  paths,  rose 
bowered,  and,  I  may  not  walk  by  your  side." 

All  the  impotence  of  his  present  position  now  swept  over 
him.  He  paused,  and  lifting  his  hand,  swore  in  his  pas- 
sionate heart  to  follow  Frederick  Wyman  to  the  very 
grave! 

"  To-morrow,  I  will  begin  my  work.  I  will  trace  back 
the  whole  past  history  of  these  three  precious  villains. 
The  group  of  alleged  mines  of  Hooper,  Bowen  &  Co. ,  was 
only  an  audacious  swindle.  Who  fired  the  'Lone  Star' 
mine?  I  know  that  Hooper  was  here  every  day.  Bowen, 
I  saw  talking  over  the  very  first  news.  Wyman,  Wy- 
man, he  was  perhaps  not  here. "  And,  the  lawyer  stood  ir- 
resolute. * '  I  will  sell  my  law  library,  but  I  will  trace 
every  moment  of  his  time.  I  saw  him  only  a  day  before 
at  the  musicale,  but,  there  are  telegraphs,  ciphers,  ready 
villains.  He  could  have  reached  there  on  a  special 
engine."  The  man's  life  work  now  came  to  him.  A  nature, 
never  to  tire  and  never  to  pardon,  he  vowed  to  follow  out 
this  grim  quest  to  the  death.  ' '  And,  he  is  intimate  with 
Mrs.  Hammond,  also.  I  must  warn  Gladys,  warn  her 
against  the  friend  of  such  a  wretch." 

While  the  ruined  lawyer  wandered  aimlessly  toward  his 
rooms,  at  the  door  of  her  own  splendid  mansion,  Milly 
Hammond  turned  to  say  a  whispered  < '  good-night "  to 
her  host  of  this  one  happy  night.  The  blinking  butler 
opened  the  door  and  then  shambled  off,  while  the  woman 
with  the  velvet  eyes,  drew  Wyman  quickly  into  the  dusky 
drawing-room.  Her  eyes  glowed  like  dusky  diamonds  in 
that  friendly  devil's  bower,  as  she  threw  herself  madly 
on  Wyman's  breast. 


240  MISS    DEVEKEUX    OF    THE   MAEIQUITA. 

"Fred,  I  swear  she  shall  be  yours!  I  will  do  your 
every  bidding,  but, — "  and  her  arms  closed  around  him, 
"don't  forget  that  I  am  a  woman,  too,  and  that  I  love 
you! "  There  were  happy  smiles  wreathing  the  face  of  the 
elated  lover  who  leaned  back  on  his  way  home  in  the 
luxury  of  his  splendid  carriage.  "Oh!  She  is  just  my  one 
needed  woman  friend.  Milly,  the  very  one  I  need.  And  I 
will  make  my  will  to  be  all  in  all,  to  her.  It  is  so  easy,  and 
Gladys  Lyndon  shall  have  a  musical  career.  I  will  set 
Milly  quietly  at  work  at  once." 

For,  he  had  already  in  the  soft  dalliance  of  that  little 
private  dinner  showed  Milly  Hammond  how  to  lime  the  trap 
for  the  soft,  fair  dove  with  shining  eyes.  "  I  give  you 
free  hand  as  to  all  details  and  my  carte  blanche  backing. 
Don't  startle  her,  for  you  must  succeed,  and,  when  that  girl 
is  mine,  your  own  future  is  a  golden  one.  I  am,  then, 
your  standby  for  life."  "  Through  all,  to  the  very  last?" 
the  eager  woman  had  queried.  "  To  the  very  last,"  Wy- 
man  had  replied,  sealing  his  oath  with  hot  kisses  rained 
on  the  lips  of  the  woman  who  had  now  whistled  all  regret 
down  the  wind,  for,  the  future  stretched  out  rosy  and 
fair  for  Milly  Hammond — the  friendship  of  one  of  Nature's 
noblemen.  It  was  a  very  tower  of  strength  to  her  totter- 
ing fortunes! 

The  day  after  Wyman's  unholy  compact  with  his 
married  dupe,  was  one  of  unexampled  gloom  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, for,  a  great  man  lay  dead  among  false  friends 
and  exultant  foes.  Stretched  lifeless  on  the  shores,  from 
whence  he  last  saw  the  Golden  Gates  ajar,  the  great 
banker,  who  had  been  discovered,  lay  cold  and  lifeless, in 
his  very  prime.  What  silent  agony  snapped  the  silver 
cords,  now  loosened  sorever,  man  will  never  know,  but  on 
that  day,  white  lipped  weaklings  crowded  in  the  marts  of 
Mammon,  and  spoke,  in  bated  breath,  of  the  fallen  giant, 


AFTER    THE    STORM.  241 

his  royal  hospitality,  his  public  spirit,  his  fearless  de- 
fiance of  obstacles,  his  unshaken  faith  in  the  Golden  West, 
his  cheery  word  for  the  humblest,  his  tender  heart  for  all 
suffering.  The  years  which  have  drifted  the  sands  over 
his  tomb  by  the  Lone  Mountain,  where  the  rolling  waves 
thunder  his  requiem  on  the  shore,  have  not  torn  the  face 
of  the  dead  leader  from  grateful  and  loving  hearts! 
Pioneer  in  opening  nature's  treasure  vaults,  builder  of  roads 
and  factories,  financier,  land  owner,  the  very  head  and  front 
of  enterprise,  California  shuddered  to  find  the  uncrowned 
King  lying,  scepterless  and  dead,  among  his  foes!  And 
meaner  men,  who  disported  once  under  the  shade  of  this 
great  cedar  of  Lebanon,  ruled  over  the  bank  in  his 
stead! 

"This  is  enough.  This  settles  it,"  gloomily  growled 
Wyinan,  as  he  reviewed  his  plans  in  the  struggling  foggy 
gray  morning,  when  the  chief  of  the  once  mighty  bank, 
an  idolized  John  Law,  lay  cold  in  death.  "It  will  take 
long  years  to  gather  up  the  reins  which  have  fallen  from 
the  cold  hands  of  Ralston,"  cried  Wyman,  throwing 
down  the  last  of  his  mining  maps  and  sketches.  The 
young  Napoleon  of  finance  smiled  as  he  thought  of  his 
securely  hidden  wall  vault,  of  the  now  firmly  held  tenure 
of  the  "Mariquita,"  and  of  all  the  triumphs  of  the  perilous 
way  he  had  walked  alone.  ' '  I  am  safe  now.  I  defy  the 
very  devil  himself.  My  tracks  are  covered  up  forever. 
I  will  give  Foreman  McManus  his  orders.  I  will  then 
quietly  go  on  to  the  East;  but,"  he  smiled  a  tiger-like 
prophecy,  "  I  will  have  the  most  delightful  voyage  on 
record  to  Europe,  if  Milly  Hammond  is  only  reasonable. 
I  will  surely  lose  nothing  here  in  being  away  for  a  year  or 
so.  I  can  easily  control  the  future  of  my  mine,  and  I 
will  slowly  reopen  the  workings,  while  I  *  cultivate  my 
musical  taste'  a  little." 


242  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUTTA. 

"Can  I  win  Milly  over?  Can  she  find  an  excuse?  Ah, 
yes!  A  little  gold,  a  great  deal  of  loving  kindness,  and 
her  own  flattered  vanity.  These  three  things  would  take 
her  to  the  very  devil,  where  she  is  surely  going,  where 
you,  my  vanished  goddess,  Vinnie,  went  on  gaily  before." 
And,  Nature's  nobleman  smiled  and  then  kissed  his 
finger  tips  to  the  face  of  Vinnie  Hinton  still  smiling  down 
on  him.  "Smart  girl,"  he  murmured  as  he  briskly  rang 
his  bell,  and  ordered  the  new  foreman  to  be  shown  in. 
* '  Yes,  Vinnie  and  her  precious  James  are  safe  'over  the 
hills  and  far  away.'  I  wonder  where  they  will  finally 
drift  to?  They  are  a  precious  pair;  but,  with  a  full  purse, 
a  new  change  of  names,  and  raiment,  let  us  hope,"  he 
piously  added,  "they  will  bring  a  new  heart  to  the  duties, 
the  varied  duties,  devolving  upon  them.  I  would  like 
to  see  them  again  some  day,"  he  chuckled. 

At  that  moment  when  McManus,  a  frightened  colossus, 
transplanted  from  his  developing  medium,  the  Comstock, 
blundered  in,  to  gaze  on  the  glories  of  "the  den,"  for 
the  first  time,  Mr.  Waldo  Strong,  that  eminent  counselor, 
was  dismissing  from  his  private  office,  the  night  Superin- 
tendent of  the  local  telegraph  company. 

"You  say  you  owe  the  place  you  now  hold  to  me,  Harris. 
You  can  more  than  repay  me  now!  I  do  not  ask  myself  to  see 
a  single  dispatch.  You  control  all  the  messenger  boys 
after  twelve  o'clock  at  night.  I  only  want  to  trace  this 
man's  movements,  by  his  dispatches.  Where  he  was,  for 
two  days  before  the  fire,  where  he  was,  on  that  day,  and 
the  day  after,  in  short,  his  actual  location  for  that  whole 
week.  The  contents  are  nothing.  He  is  a  liar,  and  his 
dispatches  are  only  cipher  lies.  But,  I  would  like  to  know 
who  handled  them  and  answered  him  from  here."  The 
young  man  stood  with  eyes  still  shining  in  gratitude. 

"To-morrow  night  you  will  have  it  all,  Mr.  Strong, 
onlv  mum's  the  word." 


AFTER    THE   STORM.  243 

"  First  step,"  muttered  Strong  as  he  caught  up  his  pa- 
pers and  raced  away  to  court.  "I  will  get  him  by  and 
by,  and  by  God!  I  will  hound  him  down  to  ruin." 

"  Where's  Haley  now?"  sharply  demanded  Wyman,  as 
he  lit  a  cigar  and  sized  up  the  new  foreman,  McManus, 
timidly  standing  "at  attention"  before  him. 

"  Sooprintindent  Hale  and  Norcross,  sir,"  jerked  out 
McManus.  "They  put  him  on  the  very  moment  he  got 
back.  Best  man  in  the  Comstock,  if  I  do  say  it,  sir," 
added  the  rough  miner. 

"That's  true,"  coolly  replied  Wyman,  "and,  the  biggest 
fool  to  leave  the  place  he  had,  I  would  have  made  a  man 
of  him." 

"Ah  sir,  his  heart's  broken  over  the  dead  boys,"  simply 
answered  the  new  foreman. 

"Well,  let  us  look  at  matters  now  on  this  new  deal," 
cried  Wyman,  drawing  up  to  his  maps.  "Do  yon  know 
the  'Lone  Star'  thoroughly?" 

"Every  inch,  night  and  day  for  nine  long  years.  I 
could  put  my  hand  in  the  dark,  on  every  yard  of  it," 
fondly  replied  the  foreman. 

"Good!"  briefly  answered  Wyman.  "  Sit  down  now, 
and  tell  me  how  you  would  go  to  work  and  connect  it  on 
the  south;  your  own  plan  for  reopening  it,  and  all  the 
future  work,  as  well  as  your  ideas  of  cost  and  all  that. 
Your  place  depends  on  it.  I'll  keep  you  in  the  mine  any- 
way, as  you  are.  If  you  stand  right  with  the  Miners' 
Union,  and  can  meet  my  ideas,  Haley's  place  is  yours! 
One  condition  I  always  make,  absolute  obedience,  and,  a 
shut  mouth." 

"I  can  fill  the  last  part  of  the  bill,"  resolutely  answered 
McManus;  "as  for  the  opening  of  the  mine,  and  the  plan, 
I'll  give  a  plain  workman's  idea.  After  that,  as  it's  your 
mine,  Mr.   Wyman,  tell  me  what  to  do,  and  I'll  go  ahead 


2  44  MJ8B    DEVEREUX    OE   THE    MARIQIHTA. 

and  do  it. "  Wyman  was  astonished  at  the  clear  practical 
views  of  the  man,  when  in  fifteen  minutes  McManus  had 
covered  the  whole  subject.  The  millionaire  (no  philoso- 
pher) did  not  reflect  that  a  man's  one  subject  of  knowledge 
naturally  showed  him  up  in  the  best  light. 

"Now  that's  my  whole  idea  of  the  underground  situa- 
tion," concluded  the  speaker.  "As  for  the  rest,  you 
must  direct  above  ground,  for  I'm  a  fool  when  I'm  out  of  a 
mine." 

"All  right,  McManus,"  cheerily  said  Wyman,  "you'll 
do.     I'll  keep  you  down  there,  and  save  your  complexion." 

McManus  grinned,  "  I'll  do  my  best." 

"You  will  have  Haley's  place,  power,  and  salary,  from 
date.  Let  me  know  what  you  want!  I'll  give  you  now  a 
formal  letter  of  appointment.  I'll  then,  telegraph  the  book- 
keeper and  give  you  also,  my  letter  to  the  Miners'  Union, 
telling  them  that  you  will  open  the  mine  to  suit 
them,  so  you'll  have  no  trouble.  Now,  my  man,  I 
will  introduce  you  to  Mr.  Brown,  who  will  have  my 
power  of  attorney,  and  Clarkson,  the  bookkeeper  at 
the  mine,  will  make  all  reports  to  him.  One  thing 
I  insist  on,  not  a  human  being  must  ever  enter  that 
mine,  without  my  written  order  or  Brown's,  with  the  day, 
name,  and  date,  and  a  specification  of  what  part  of  the 
mine,  and  how  long;  these  cards  to  be  all  turned  into 
Clarkson.  I  am  going  away  to  Europe,  for  a  couple  of 
years."  The  big  miner  stared  with  open  eyes.  "Things 
will  be  very  dull  here,  and  I  want  to  let  the  two  bank 
gangs  chew  each  other  to  pieces  before  I  come  back  and 
speculate.  Do  you  think  I  ought  to  come  over  to  Vir- 
ginia, as  I  go  East?"  The  young  man  eyed  the  foreman 
keenly.     McManus  was  very  manly. 

"There's  a  good  deal  of  bitter  feeling  yet  against  you, 
personally,  about  the  loss  of  life.     Men  all  say  that  a  safety 


AFTKR    THE    STORM.  245 

gallery  would  have  saved  all  the  lives.  It's  true,  but,  we 
are  all  wiser  after  the  fair,"  said  the  brave  Irishman,  heav- 
ing a  last  sigh  for  the  dead.  "You  can  do  no  good;  it 
might  rouse  up  the  men  again.  If  Mr.  Brown  represents 
you,  then  Clarkson  and  I  will  run  the  mine  to  a  dot,  on 
your  orders.  When  you  come  back,  I  may  have  a  « big 
bonanza '  for  you,  if  you  will  let  me  open  the  dead  ground 
to  the  north.  I  suppose  you  would  run  over  anyway  if 
we  would  make  a  big  strike?" 

"What  do  you  know  of  the  six  hundred  feet  on  the 
north?"  sharply  queried  Wyman. 

"Oh,  only  the  seeress,  that's  Mrs.  Bowers,  you  know," 
said  the  simple  miner,  "swears  that  there's  a  heavy  ore 
body  in  there,  rich,  and  a  'stayer,'  too;  a  great  ore 
body;  but  the  boys  are  afraid  of  it."  McManus  hesi- 
tated. 

"What's  the  yarn?  Some  more  of  the  old  woman's 
fancies?"  angrily  cried  Wyman. 

"  She  says  two  men  were  killed  to  get  it,  and,  she 
swears  it  is  cursed — the  curse  of  innocent  men's  blood,  an' 
no  good  will  ever  come  to  you,  of  the  money  that's  in  there. 
<  Blood  money! '  she  calls  it."  The  millionaire  laughed  as 
he  cried,  "Bosh!"  But,  Wyman's  teeth  chattered  as  he 
filled  a  glass  of  brandy. 

"McManus!  don't  let  that  old  hag's  croaking  get  the 
men  into  any  foolish  notions,  I  know  the  old  lunatic." 

"Ah,  sir,"  solemnly  said  McManus,  "them  two  men 
that  have  just  jumped  from  a  pick  handle  to  twenty  mill- 
ions apiece,  would  sooner  have  the  old  girl's  opinion,  than 
any  two  wise  men's  on  the  Lode." 

"Don't  you  mind  her  crazy  jabber.     I'll  open  the  north 
end,  all    in   good   time,"   good-humoredly   said  Wyman 
"Now,  come  in  to  see  Mr.  Brown,  and  he  will  fix  you  all 
up.     When  you  are  done,  let  me  see  you  again.     You  may 


246  MISS    DEVERETJX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

think  of  something  that  you  want  to  say.  I  would  like 
you  to  get  back  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"To-night's  train,  sir,"  answered  McManus,  touchirg 
his  forelock. 

When  Frederick  Wyraan  was  alone,  he  muttered,  "I 
wish  that  old  crone  was  in  hell.  Where  did  she  pick  up 
her  notions?  I  hope  to  God  she  will  not  take  a  walk  under 
ground  in  her  dreams,  and  talk  with  the  fellows  down  at 
the  bottom  of  the  shaft."  And  yet,  he  was  alive,  and  they 
were  all  pale  shades.     They  were  harmless! 

So,  rosier  thoughts  came  soon  to  the  man  who  began  to 
miss  the  daily  sparkle  of  Vinnie  Hinton's  electric  con- 
versation. McManus  went  away,  and  at  sitting  down  to 
his  work,  Mr.Wyman  coldly  examined  the  whole  business 
situation.  In  a  week,  he  made  up  his  mind  that  the 
"shaking  down  process"  had  ceased.  The  great  banker 
was  at  last  laid  away  at  rest.  The  echoes  of  his  pompous 
funeral  slowly  died  away,  and  men  then  turned  in  relief  to 
patching  up  their  leaky  birch  canoes  of  credit  so  as  to  sail 
out  beyond  these  depths  once  more.  Admirable 
American  adaptability!  The  wholesale  ruin  was  al- 
ready a  coarse  standing  joke.  New  faces  shone  in 
millionaire  circles,  and  several  robust  and  hot-blooded 
plebeian  women  bounded  out  into  the  arena  of  fashion, 
displaying  their  aspiring  souls  and  bedizened  bodies  to  the 
multitude  who  surged  in,  eager  for  this  new  opening  of 
champagne  and  ladling  out  of  terrapin.  The  maelstrom 
swung  around  as  of  yore,  only,  different  positions  marked 
the  wreckers,  the  wrecking  and  the  wrecked!  In  other 
words,  to  borrow  the  snug  style  of  the  "Stock  Report,1' 
"The  market  has  already  assumed  a  healthy  tone,  based 
upon  real  values."  In  this  survival  of  the  luckiest,  the 
minor  chord  wailing  of  misery,  woe,  penury  and  heart- 
break died  away  at  last,  and  "  society "  began  to  grow 


AFTEE   THE   STOEM,  24 1 

casually  familiar  with  the  names,  faces  and  brief  "  ex- 
cerpts "  of  the  past  history  of  the  new  czars  and  czarinas 
of  moneyed  California. 

' '  I'll  not  stay  here  to  nave  this  new  ruck  and  truck 
rule  over  me!"  said,  with  some  dignity,  Mr.  Frederick 
Wyman,  whose  patent  of  financial  nobility  now  dated 
back  "before  the  failure  of  the  Bank  of  California,"  to 
the  solid  pyramid  of  wealth,  builded  upon  a  forger's  skill 
and  two  bloody  graves.  He,  for  "certain  reasons,"  de- 
cided, like  Lord  Bateman,  "to  go  abroad,  strange  coun- 
tries for  to  see!"  These  "cogent  reasons"  were  all 
wrapped  up,  a  fleecy  bundle  of  charms,  in  the  embodied 
loveliness  of  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon,  who  was  now  on  her 
way  home  from  the  long  line  of  country  side  mansions 
where  her  talent  had  at  last  timidly  made  its  way  in  "on 
trial." 

It  was  in  obedience  to  a  little  perfumed  note,  that 
Wyman,  in  his  most  careful  form,  repaired  to  the  man- 
sion on  the  avenue.  He  was  the  bearer  of  the  promised 
diamond  ring,  a  sparkling  pledge  of  amity.  « « It  will  keep 
till  after  dinner,"  he  mused,  "and,  I  will  only  give  her 
the  stock  which  I  promised,  when  she  has  tied  Gladys' 
hands  for  me  with  the  white  bow  of  promise."  The  little 
note  sounded  pleasantly.  He  read  it  over  and  over  with  a 
secret  joy : 

Dear  Fred: 

Come  up  aud  dine  with  me  alone,  to-night.  Gladys  comes  back 
to-day.  We  must  arrange  all  before  you  see  her.  I  will  probably 
meet  her  to-night.  You  may  also,  if  you  are  a  good  boy,  and  come 
to  Yours  always, 

Milly  Hammond. 

' '  I  have  now  my  whole  plan  ready  to  submit  to  your 
ladyship,"  said  Wyman,  two  hours  later,  as  the  delighted 
hostess  was  still  examining  the  peerless  diamond,  flashing 


248  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE   MARIQUITA, 

on  her  finger,  while  she  toyed  with  her  cigarette,  in  the 
"  sanctum,"  her  own  especial  "  place  of  arms."  "I  will 
be  brief,  as  you  may  wish  to  see  Gladys  to-night.  It  is 
just  as  well  to  surprise  her  a  bit.  Now!  I  am  going  East, 
ostensibly  to  New  York,  and  the  South,  «  to  revisit  my 
old  home,'"  he  sneered.  "I  fear  this  fellow  Strong's  re- 
sentment. I  wish  to  get  our  blue-eyed  friend  out  of  here, 
at  once.  My  reasons  are  my  own."  Milly  Hammond 
modestly  dropped  her  eyes.  "Now,  how  to  remove  her 
at  once,  out  of  Strong's  reach!  There's  only  one  way. 
What  do  you  say  to  a  little  trip  to  Europe?  Take  her 
along  with  you.  You  can  impart  to  her  that  your 
'  physician  '  orders  a  *  change  of  air  '  and  a  c  sea  voyage. ' 
Ask  her  if  she  will  not  go  on  with  you  at  once.  Tell  her 
you  will  make  an  appeal  to  a  friend  to  guarantee  her  two 
year's  musical  instruction,  in  the  best  style,  in  Paris.  You 
can  stay  over  there  for  a  year.  That  gives  me,  another 
year  there.  She  will  then  be  alone.  You  will  have  soft- 
ened her  feelings.  I  am  the  mysterious  benefactor,  etc. , 
etc.;  gratitude  later,  and  all  that." 

"But,  Fred,  my  house?"  the  lady  gasped. 

"  Rent  it  furnished.  I  will  make  it  all  up  to  you,"  her 
friend  calmly  said. 

"  I've  no  money  <  for  the  trip,' "  the  fair  dame  persisted, 
daintly  turning  imaginary  pockets  inside  out.  Mr.  Wyman 
smiled  and  pulled  out  a  handful  of  twenties. 

"  Presto,  change!"  he  laughed,  as  he  dropped  them, 
one  by  one,  in  her  lap.     Their  tinkle  was  most  delightful. 

"My  husband!"  she  murmured.  For  the  first  time, 
Wyman  frowned. 

"You'll  have  to  fix  that  up  with  him,"  he  gloomily 
said,  as  he  beat  a  tattoo  on  the  window  in  a  sudden  fit  of 
abstraction. 

"  All  right,  I  can  do  it.  I  see  the  way,"  said  the 
quick-eyed  Milly. 


AFTER   THE    STORM.  249 

"  I  thought  you  would  find  a  way  to  surmount  that  ob- 
stacle," drily  said  Wyman,  as  he  now  drew  near,  very  near, 
to  her. 

"  When  must  we  start?  "  faltered  Mrs.  Hammond. 

"  Not  later  than  two  weeks,"  resolutely  said  the  capital- 
ist, who  was  now  eager  to  see  the  beautiful  face  of  Gladys 
light  up  in  the  glow  of  happiness,  a  realized  happiness, 
her  dream  come  to  pass,  in  all  its  bright  fruition.  "It 
will  make  me  so  happy,"  he  murmured  aloud.  "A 
double  happiness,  the  crowning  good  deed  of  my  life." 

"But,  Fred,  I  know  so  few  people  in  Paris,  I  will 
be  so  lonely,"  Milly  Hammond  cried,  as  she  clung  to  his 
arm. 

"Listen,  you  pretty  fool,"  he  amusedly  said.  "Do 
you  think  I  am  only  a  great  '  moral  engine,'  putting 
away,  '  pro  bono  publico?  '  Haven't  you  some  respectable 
friends  in  New  York,  where  you  can  leave  her,  while 
you  visit  '  your  family  friend?'  " 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  and  Milly  began  a  long  catalogue. 

"Spare  us!  Good  Lord,"  ejaculated  Wyman,  smiling. 
"That's  all  right,  she  will  be  safe.  The  'family 
friends,'  .  .  here  they  are."  Milly  Hammond's  eyes 
sparkled  with  a  vicious  dancing  light,  as  she  clapped  her 
hands. 

"And,  and?"  she  panted.  "By  accident,  we  meet  on 
the  steamer,"  he  complacently  murmured. 

"I  have  suddenly  business  in  London,  and  so  take 
the  same  boat." 

"Fred,  you  are  a  genius,"  the  velvet-eyed  siren  cried. 

*  'And  when  she  is  settled,  you  can  travel  on  the  continent, 
and  in  the  United  Kingdom,  with  a  '  cousin.'  Here  he  is!" 
The  cool  villain  laughed,  as  he  untwined  her  clinging 
arms  from  around  his  neck. 

"And  when  my  year  is  up?  "  she  pouted*  in  a  pretty 
mook  soisrow. 


250  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF    THE    MAEIQUITA. 

"  You  can  come  home  alone  for  the  proprieties,  and 
with  the  very  neatest  wardrobe  that  your  own  exqusite 
taste  can  select.  That  gives  me  a  year  in  which  to  '  finish 
my  business'  over  there,"  he  demurely  said. 

"You  shall  have  your  own  way  in  all  things,"  she 
murmured,  with  a  final  self -surrender  to  his  slightest  wish. 

i '  This  is  the  only  feasible  plan.  I  learned  all  the  de- 
tails from  a  Calif ornian  General,  who  voyaged  in  Europe 
for  two  years  with  his  niece,"  said  the  sprightly  Wyman, 
"and  it  worked  so  well,  that  when  they  returned  here  the 
lady  forgot  the  relationship.  She  is  not  '  his  niece  '  any 
more.  You  know  her!  I  hope  you  do  not  know  the  Gen- 
eral, for  my  sake,"  laughed  Wyman. 

"  Wait  here  a  moment!  "  cried  the  overjoyed  woman, 
as  she  flashed  past  him,  and  indited  a  brief  note.  "  Can  I 
act  at  once,  on  your  ingenious  plan?"  she  merrily  said, 
standing  by  him,  the  note  held  in  rosy  finger  tips,  tremb- 
ling under  his  kisses. 

"  Yes,  I  will  always  make  my  word  good." 

"Listen  then.  I  know  that  you  are  anxious  to  arrange 
all  your  business  so  as  to  go  East."  Their  burning  eyes 
met.  "  I  have  now  rung  for  a  carriage,  and  I  will  send  my 
maid  over  for  Gladys.  It  is  now  only  half-past  eight.  Go 
down  and  see  one  act  at  the  theater.  If  you  are  in  that 
summer  house  in  the  garden,  at  half-past  ten,  you  will  find 
some  one  there,  who   will  have  good  news  for  you." 

"I  appreciate  your  suggestions,"  he  laughed,  "and  I  will 
leave  you  to  collect  your  own  thoughts.  Remember,  I  am 
surely  going  away  in  four  or  five  days.  You  have  pleaded 
with  me,  I  have  consented  to  interest  myself  in  this  mat- 
ter, only  because  you  will  see  the  money  judiciously  ex- 
pended. That's  your  story."  The  ringing  laugh  in  which 
they  joined,  might  have  been  a  family  duet  of  reconcil- 
iation between  Pluto  and  Proserpine.     It  had  the  very  ac- 


AFTER    THE    STORM.  251 

cent  of  hell's  last  triumph!  "  Only  on  one  condition,  that 
she  leaves  with  you  alone,  and  in  absolute  secrecy.  By  the 
way,  bring  her  here  to  stay  with  you  till  then,  and  I  can 
so  trust  to  you  that  she  does  not  see  Strong." 

"And,  if  I  can  not  help  it?  "  Milly  murmured. 

li  You  will  hare  to  find  the  way.  You  must  help  it,"  he 
stoutly  answered.  "  I'm  no  fool,  and  you  surely  will  find 
that  out.  Firstly,  Morani  will  watch  over  the  house,  and 
come  on  East  with  you,  on  the  same  train.  He  will  be 
courier  for  you,  and  act  as  guard,  too.  I'm  going  to  leave 
him  to  watch  over  this  girl  in  Paris.  If  you  let  this  man 
Strong  see  her,  then,  you  and  she  will  only  go  as  far  as  New 
York.  After  that,  you  are  your  own  mistresses.  I'll  not 
be  trifled  with.  It  is  vital  to  me,  to  your  own  future,  to 
keep  her  away  from  Strong." 

"I  have  it,"  cried  Milly  Hammond,  "I  will  close  up 
my  house  for  these  last  two  weeks.  I  will  take  her  over 
to  Oakland  with  me,  under  the  pretense  that  I  have  some 
money  troubles  to  avoid.  Strong  will  not  find  her  there, 
I  will  promise  you."     Milly's  voice  was  grim  and  cold. 

"Now,  you  see  you  are  at  last  a  wise  little  woman,  a 
sweet  little  woman,"  Wyman  murmured.  "  Her  letter  of 
credit,  in  her  own  name,  neatly  gilt-lettered  for  ten 
thousand  dollars,  will  be  handed  to  you,  by  me,  on  the 
steamer  after  we  leave  New  York.  Do  you  see?  "  Wy- 
man's  cruel  eyes  then  gleamed  maliciously. 

"Ah!  Fred!  You  are  a  smart  boy.  It  shall  be  as  you 
wish,"  the  woman  said,  yielding  all  up  to  him. 

"And  now,  do  you  see?  My  man,  Morani,  will  make  every 
arrangement  and  be  purse  bearer  as  far  as  New  York.  He 
will  report  to  you  every  evening  in  Oakland,  and  you  need 
have  no  fear  of  breaking  his  bank."  They  laughed  in 
glee.     The  noise  of  wheels  interrupted  them. 

"Here,  Fred,  slip  out  and  away  by  the  garden.     Re- 


252  MISS    DEVEREUX   OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

member,  half -past  ten."  The  lips  which  met  Gladys 
Lyndon's  were  warm  with  her  intended  lover's  kisses. 

1  'What  has  happened?  "  cried  the  agitated  girl.  "I 
feared  that  you  were  ill." 

"Ah!  Gladys,  I  am  beside  myself  with  happiness," 
laughed  Milly  Hammond,  as  she  drew  the  graceful  girl 
into  her  little  gilded  spider-web  sanctum. 

While  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman,  having  caught  up  Varick, 
glared  critically  at  the  inimitable  Billy  Florence  in  his 
"Bardwell  Slote  "  rendition,  Mr.  Waldo  Strong,  closeted 
in  his  lonely  office,  eagerly  ran  over  a  schedule  of  Wy- 
man's  telegraph  dates,  given  to  him  by  Harris.  "My 
boy,"  he  cried,  "  you  have  more  than  repaid  me."  The 
lawyer's  hand  went  out  filled  with  a  generous  sample  of  his 
few  remaining  golden  twenties. 

"  Not  one  cent  from  you,  now  or  ever,"  heartily  cried 
Harris.  "  I  must  get  away.  They  watch  us  night  and 
day." 

Bending  over  the  papers,  after  a  half  hour's  study,  Mr. 
Waldo  Strong  made  a  few  notes  in  his  own  private  journal 
with  the  appropriate  dates.  "  Either  to  pay  you  off  for 
this  villainy,  or  the  triple  money  swindle  on  the  banks, 
and  to  avenge  Hooper's  victims,  for  this  I  will  break  in 
upon  your  rosiest,  happiest  hour,  you  cold-hearted 
scoundrel,"  cried  Strong,  as  he  threw  his  head  down  upon 
his  hands. 

1  <  His  letters !  His  letters !  Yes,  I  must  watch  them,  too ! 
He  may  be  posting  this  fellow  Hooper.  I  will  see  In- 
spector Stanton.  Yes.  I  have  it.  If  the  banks  will  only 
state  to  him  their  suspicion  of  Wyman's  complicity  in 
this  Hooper  fraud,  Stanton  will  secretly  watch  his  mail, 
and  also,  do  a  bit  of  private  tracing  for  me.  Yes,  when 
the  cup  is  the  very  sweetest,  I  will  dash  it  from  your 
lips."     Strong,  now  tired,  careworn  and  wearied,  snapped 


AFTER    THE    STORM.  253 

the  covers  of  his  private  note-book,  swung  his  safe  door, 
and,  dreaming  not  of  law  but  of  love,  began  to  roll  his 
stone  of  Sisyphus  up  the  hill  again  to  where  he  first  saw 
Gladys  Lyndon's  eyes  shining  down  on  him. 

The  pale  blue  stars  gleamed  down  depreciatingly  on  Mr. 
Frederick  Wynian,  through  a  classic  San  Francisco  fog,  as 
he  deftly  dodged  into  the  summer  house  on  his  return,  at  the 
appointed  time.  ' '  I  hope  the  gardener  or  the  policeman 
will  not  take  a  stray  pop  at  me  as  a  burglar,"  Wyman  ex- 
claimed,  but  he  was  soon  taken  into  custody  by  the 
clinging  arms  of  a  woman,  who  was,  woman-like,  already 
at  the  trysting  place,  for  the  charming  daughters  of  Eve 
are  always  either  greatly  in  advance,  or  fearfully  behind, 
the  fated  hour.  This  strange  variation  in  such  little  con- 
fidential matters,  changes  often,  depending  upon  the  warmth 
of  the  amatory  currents,  the  duration  of  the  intrigue,  and 
the  supposed  relative  advantages  of  the  little  fall  from 
grace. 

"Fred,  it  is  all  settled  with  Gladys,  and  she  is  so  shaken 
with  joy,  so  overcome,  that  I  must  go  in  to   her  at  once." 
Wyman's  voice  quivered  with  emotion  as  he  whispered, 
straining  his  guilty  ally  to  his  breast : 
"When  shall  I  come?" 

"Dinner  to-morrow,"  she  cried,  "and  let  it  be  the  last 
time  till  we  meet  in  New  York." 

"Good," answered  her  new  master.  "You  told  her  that 
I  had  consented?" 

"Yes.  You  will  not  have  any  reason  to  complain  of 
her  lack  of  gratitude,  she  will  speak  for  herself." 

"Ah!"  murmured  Wyman,  "  there  is  but  one  thing  left 
then.  I  will  depart  secretly  in  two  days  then,  but  you 
and  I,  will  surely  have  something  to  say  to  each  other,  last 
arrangements  to  conclude.  I  am  afraid  of  being  observed 
by  Strong,  coming  up  here  too  often;  come  up  to  supper 


254  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

at  my  rooms,  nine  o'clock,  day  after  to-morrow.  I  will 
send  my  own  carriage  for  you;  Morani  will  then  bring  you 
home.  I  shall  leave  the  next  morning  at  eight  o'clock, 
and  must  be  over  the  Sierras,  and  out  of  Nevada,  before 
any  one  up  there  knows." 

"  Must  it  be?"  the  fearful  woman  questioned,  nestling 
in  his  arms.  "  Oh,  Fred!  the  risk!"  But,  the  promise 
was  finally  made,  and  so,  once  more,  her  light  foot  was 
fated  to  echo  on  the  stairs  of  this  Bluebeard's  tower. 

Two  weeks  later,  Inspector  James  Stanton  gazed  with  a 
deep  concern  in  the  eyes  of  his  old  friend,  Waldo  Strong, 
after  a  long  official  conference  in  the  gloomy  old  post- 
office. 

"You  see,  Waldo,  I  would  gladly  do  anything  for  our 
friendship  of  twenty  years;  our  college  days  are  not  for- 
gotteu,  but,  Wyman  is  now  beyond  our  reach.  He  left 
here  ten  days  ago,  and  is  now  at  Louisville,  Ky.  So,  at 
least,  his  cashier  says,  but,  all  his  mail  is  still  delivered 
at  the  office.  His  stay  in  the  East  is  indefinite.  We 
must  await  his  return,  we  cannot  get  at  him  now." 

Baffled  and  wearied,  Waldo  Strong,  returning  from  a 
park  drive,  paused  at  Mrs.  Hammond's  residence  on  Van- 
Ness  avenue.  "She  may  perhaps  know;  they  are  old 
friends,  and  I  may  see  Gladys  Lyndon,  if  she  has  returned." 

The  old  gardener  outside  smiled  at  Strong's  futile  efforts 
to  ring  up  the  house. 

"  I  thought  every  one  knew  that  Mrs.  Hammond  and 
Miss  Lyndon  had  gone  to  New  York  for  the  summer,"  he 
stolidly  said. 

And  thus,  a  darkness,  deeper  than  the  evening  shades,  set- 
tled down  over  Waldo  Strong's  heart.  "  She  is  lost  to  me 
now,  for  her  upward  steps  will  lead  her  far  away  forever." 


FROM  SHORE  TO  SHORE.  255 


CHAPTER  X. 

From  Shore  to  Shore. 

Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  was  the  envied  of  many  jealous- 
eyed  cavaliers,  when  he  proudly  escorted  Mrs.  Hammond 
and  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon,  to  the  decks  of  the  "  Britannic, " 
on  the  lovely  August  day  which  he  had  chosen  for  their 
departure.  In  all  the  bustle  of  this  departing  fashion,  in 
this  year  of  grace,  no  happier  faces  were  turned  toward  the 
dim  reaches  of  the  ocean.  An  involuntary  twisting  of 
heads  and  craning  of  necks  proved  that  the  too  susceptible 
youth  of  Gotham  would  at  once  crown  Miss  Lyndon,  by  a 
rising  vote,  as  queen  of  love  and  beauty ;  and  truly,  a  radiant 
delight  sparkled  in  her  splendid  eyes  lit  up  now  with  bright 
hope;  for,  though  parted  for  a  fortnight  by  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond's important  "family  duties,"  Miss  Lyndon  had  for 
two  days,  been  under  the  renewed  "  personal  guidance  " 
of  "  dear  Mrs.  Hammond."  Wyman  breathed  a  sigh  of 
relief  as  the  "Britannic"  forged  slowly  down  the  noble 
river. 

' '  By  Heavens !  It  has  been  a  most  wonderful  cam- 
paign," he  murmured.  "Milly  is,  after  all,  one  woman 
in  a  thousand.  Stole  away,  and,  Mr.  Waldo  Strong  has 
lost  his  innings. "  Wyman  cheerfully  paced  the  deck,  and 
gaily  communed  with  himself  over  his  first  cigar.  The 
ladies  were  below  directing  the  final  arrangements  of  their 
flower-decked  cabins  by  the  peerless  Morani.  The  little 
Gallic  valet's  heart  was  light  as  he  chanted  at  his  work: 
"  Paris!  Paris!  Enfin  je  te  revois!"  for,  he  regarded  the 
base  pursuit  of  lucre  in  the  western  world,  while  certainly 


256  MISS    DEVEREUX     OF    THE     MARIQIHTA. 

effecting  magical  results  in  his  exchequer,  as,  after  all, 
time  lost  in  the  bright  pages  of  his  inner  life.  He  had 
more  than  justified  the  dependence  of  his  patron. 

Wyman  gazed  not  upon  the  varied  beauties  of  the  splen- 
did harbor,  as  the  staunch  liner  swept  along.  In  the 
happy  fortnight  spent  in  a  gay  revel  at  Long  Branch  with 
Mrs.  Hammond,  he  had  realized,  to  the  full,  the  growing 
opulence  and  luxury  love  of  the  great  Eastern  communi- 
ties, new  to  him.  The  sea-side  summer  seemed  to  him,  a 
tyro, to  be  a  mingling  of  the  old  Olympian  games,  the  Arab- 
ian Nights,  and  Vanity  Fair.  His  curiosity  as  to  the  fate  of 
the  Kentucky  family  which  he  had  once  adorned,  had  been 
easily  satisfied  with  two  or  three  days  at  Louisville.  He 
made  no  dutiful  pilgrimage  to  the  sandy  "lines,"  where 
his  warlike  father  rested  by  the  glory  memorable  hills  of 
Atlanta.  With  a  new  sense  of  the  concrete  power  of 
money,  and  his  mind  now  attuned  to  every  luxury  of  the 
"rushing"  life  of  the  golden  West,  he  muttered,  "  The 
South  is  only  a  land  of  past  shadows,  and  of  dawning 
future  hopes."  The  very  people  there  were  alien  to  him 
in  spirit,  for,  they  still  clung  to  what  was  valueless  to  this 
nobleman  of  Nature — character,  always  a  certain  self-im- 
posed burden  of  the  varied  attributes  of  the  « '  Southern 
gentleman." 

It  was  only  when  sheltered  at  a  great  Long  Branch  hotel 
that  he  tasted  to  the  full  the  first  sweet  fruits  of  his  potent 
wealth.  Nothing  at  the  "West  End"  was  too  fancifully 
luxurious  for  the  soft-eyed  lady  who  gracefully  peeped  out 
at  the  rattling  sea- side  life  with  him  as  his  spouse,  under 
the  convenient  name  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Armytage.  Said 
Milly,  with  a  merry  laugh,  "Fred,  we  will  begin  with  the 
alphabet,  for  we  may  wear  it  all  out  before  we  return!" 
Busied  during  the  day  at  New  York,  Wyman,  driving 
along  the  sea-beach  where  the  silver  stars  hung  low  over 


FROM  SHORE  TO  SHORE.  257 

the  throbbing  sea,  found  sin  sweet,  pleasure  to  be  a  new 
daily  life  elixir,  and,  had  not  yet  wearied  of  his  dashing 
and  witty  companion. 

Morani,  stationed  conveniently  in  New  York,  kept  a 
close  watch  upon  the  unsuspecting  girl  who  must  be  mysti- 
fied for  the  nonce.  The  occasional  appearance  of  Mrs. 
Hammond  served  to  check  any  suspicion  of  the  girl  unfa- 
miliar with  the  babel  of  New  York.  On  the  night  before 
their  departure  Mrs.  Hammond  had  given  to  Gladys  Lyn- 
don the  promised  letter  of  credit,  which  Wyman,  with  a 
keen  eye  to  business,  had  made  available  in  Europe  only, 
and  for  the  sum  of  five  thousand  dollars  a  year,  for  two 
years.  "This  will  tie  her  up  there,  under  my  eye,"  he 
mused. 

He  now  looked  forward  to  his  first  evening  walk  on  the 
great  sweeping  decks  with  a  fluttering  anticipation,  for  Mrs. 
Hammond  had  duly  laid  her  injunctions  upon  her  protegee 
in  New  York  not  to  offend  Wyman' s  "delicacy"  by  per- 
sonal reference  to  the  great  obligation.  ' <  Of  course, 
dear  Gladys,  once  at  sea,  you  may  then  express  your  sense 
of  his  kindness  to  Mr.  Wyman,  alone!  He  is  of  a  very 
singular  and  retiring  nature.  He  has  lived  very  much 
alone.  His  own  family  were  all  swept  away  in  the  South- 
ern war;    a  sad,  sad  loss!     He  never  refers  to  them." 

Gladys  Lyndon's  gentle  heart  beat  in  kindly  sympathy 
with  her  benefactor,  as  she  softly  said,  "Ah,  he  has  had 
a  lonely  and  unhappy  childhood,  like  my  own."  One 
strange  feature  in  Miss  Lyndon's  unsounded  character  had 
singularly  impressed  Wyman,  and  his  woman  fellow-con- 
spirator. Even  in  the  hours  of  their  jolly  masquerade  at 
Long  Branch,  Wyman  had  found  time  to  urge  upon  Mrs. 
Hammond  his  wish  to  gradually  find  out  all  the  hidden 
heart-history  of  the  talented  novice. 

"Fred,  I  will  do  all  I  can,"  she  most  heartily  pledged 


258  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

him.  "The  truth  is,  Gladys  is  a  strangely  unmanageable 
girl  in  some  things.  I  have  not  yet  won  her  entire  confi- 
dence. I  have  again  and  again  delicately  probed  her  upon 
the  very  poiDts  you  refer  to.  With  no  trace  of  irritation 
she  has  only  frankly  and  simply  said,  'I  have  never  had  a 
childhood,  save  in  the  convent  of  the  term.  The  little 
I  do  know,  is  only  a  fragmentary  record  of  my  private  sor- 
rows. My  very  name,  Gladys  Lyndon,  even,  is  a  legacy  of 
an  humble  friend,  who  was  all  in  all  to  me,  before  your 
goodness  came  to  brighten  my  life.' 

"So,  Fred,  I  did  go  out  and  tamper  a  bit  with  the 
Sisters;  smooth-browed  and  sly  they  are,  for,  I  threw  away 
my  time  at  the  Visitation  Convent,  for  a  prolonged  chat 
with  an  oyster  would  be  just  as  productive  of  news.  I  do  not 
know  what  the  seal  is  on  these  passionless  lips,  but,  nuns 
are  not  flesh-and-blood  women  as  we  others  are." 

Mr.  Wyman,  on  the  general  principle  of  a  "wholesome 
variety,"  slyly  congratulated  himself  that  there  were 
many  other  women  in  the  world  than  the  Milly  Hammond 
type.  The  lurking  traitor  already  did  full  justice  to  the 
unstained  womanhood  of  the  fair-browed,  clear-eyed 
singer.  He  had  not  yet  seen  any  flaw  in  her  bright  armor. 
"I  must  be  very  careful  with  her,  and  warn  Milly,  too;" 
for  the  "roses  and  ruptures,"  had  led  on  Mrs.  Hammond 
into  a  decidedly  dashing  "lionne"  style,  which  might,  by 
one  single  unfortunate  danger  signal  settle  all  his  nefari- 
ous hopes,  his  now  madly-increased  longings.  "  You  now 
play  your  part,  and  leave  her  to  me.  Have  her  for  my 
own,  I  will,'  he  finally  said.  "  I  don't  care  a  bit  for  her 
past.  What  it  has  been  is  self-evident.  It  is  her  future 
years,  which  I  demand,  and  I  will  yet,  lead  her  up  to  see 
life  as  it  is."  Mrs.  Hammond  winced  under  Wyman's 
thrust,  and  was  wisely  silent,  for,  even  careful  as  she  was, 
the  record  of  her  own  life  was  written  on  her  face.     She 


FROM  SHOwE  TO  SHORE.  2d« 

could  not  understand  the  watchful  reserve  which  locked 
up  in  the  proud  girl's  innocent  bosom,  a  world, of  womanly 
ambitions,  so  far-soaring  that  she  only  whispered  them  to 
her  pillow. 

And  that  first  night,  on  the  great  waste  of  green  waters, 
the  orphaned  beauty  was  thankful  in  her  murmured  prayers 
for  the  delicate  generosity  of  the  princely  miner.  Her 
startled  heart  beat  quickly  for  a  few  frightened  gasps, 
when  she  learned  of  Wyman's  purpose  to  sail  on  the  same 
steamer.  It  was  the  first  note  of  alarm.  "  A  little  finan- 
cial business  in  London,  and  he  may  then,  run  over  to 
Paris  and  see  us  there,  before  he  goes  home  again.  Such 
a  man's  time  is  not  his  own;  alas!"  sighed  Milly  Ham- 
mond, in  a  dark  premonition  of  parting,  "his  varied 
duties  make  him  a  factor  in  many  lives."  It  was  truly 
Wyman's  cheerful  purpose  to  fulfill  the  latter  statement, 
in  every  sense. 

He  found  time,  however,  to  whisper  to  Milly  Hammond 
as  she  came  on  deck  with  the  glowing  Gladys  to  see  the  last 
glimpse  of  Fire  Island,  "We  must  be  wise  as  serpents 
and  harmless  as  doves,  Milly.  Now,  as  I  came  up  the 
steamer  gang  plank,  one  of  our  Long  Branch  friends 
slapped  me  on  the  back.  <  Hello,  Armytage,  going  over?' 
I  was  so  startled  that  I  could  only  bow  in  silence.  <  And 
Mrs.  Armytage,  does  she,  too,  go  with  you?  '  I  managed  to 
make  sure  that  he  was  not  a  passenger,  and  then,  declined 
his  eager  offer  of  several  introductions  to  fellow  passen- 
gers. My  heart  was  frozen  in  fear  of  a  scene.  So,  you 
see,  the  sword  hangs  over  us  by  a  single  hair." 

He  realized  in  saucy  Milly  Hammond's  half  amused 
"moue"  of  pretty  dismay, that  she  would  simply  "  trust  to 
luck  "  to  appease  her  by  no  means  exacting  lord  who  was 
ever  flitting  between  Alaska  and  the  City  of  Mexico,  on  some 
shadowy    "business,"   presumably    "mines."     It  was  in 


260  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

fact,  a  jolly  proverb  among  the  "  initiated"  that  Hammond 
only  touched  foot  occasionally,  for  a  brief  rest  at  the  rock 
of  his  family  altar,  and  then  soared  away  again,  out  into 
the  unknown.  Whether  it  may  have  been  the  result  of 
accident  or  design,  this  great  mystery  long  remained  "one 
of  these  things  that  no  fellow  can  find  out."  It  had,  of 
course,  its  due  explanation,  the  riddle  was  capable  of  solu- 
tion, but,  even  the  fashionable  circles  which  the  velvet- 
eyed  lady  adorned  so  gracefully,  could  not  quite  "make  it 
out."  It  was  a  charming  example  of  how  attenuated  the 
marriage  bond  could  be  drawn,  out  in  the  far  West,  and 
yet  hold  two  hearts  legally  together.  Probably,  it  was 
also  a  result  of  that  "glorious  climate,"  which  figures  so 
often  as  a  "  piece  de  resistance"  in  the  tourist's  guides,  and 
other  rose-colored  local  literature  of  California. 

Wyman  grimly  realized  that  the  embarrassment  of  de- 
tection would  be  his  alone,  that  the  loss  of  Gladys  Lyndon, 
would  be  the  certain  penalty  he  would  pay  in  the  event  of 
discovery.  He  left  the  ladies  to  make  a  charming  sunset 
group,  as  he  wandered  quietly  away,  to  think  his  passion- 
sketched  programme  over,  alone.  He  had  already  observed 
the  great  ship's  company  and  noted  the  varied  social 
characteristics  of  this  summer  pilgrim  band,  a  typical 
American  outre-mer  delegation.  Many  of  the  types  he 
well  knew  already,  and  yet,  others  were  revelations.  The 
bustling  Hebrew  partners  "going  over  to  buy  the  goods;" 
the  prosperous  returning  foreigners,  who  had  found  a 
fortune  in  free  America;  the  blase  tourist;  a  few  con- 
sequential office-holders,  and,  a  horde  of  business  men  on 
special  missions.  All  these,  were  forms  he  well  knew. 
But,  for  the  first  time,  he  saw  the  crystallized  knots  of  first- 
class  eastern  American  pleasure  seekers;  a  few  earnest- 
eyed  teachers;  various  passive-looking  students;  a  few 
pale-browed   men,  going  over  on  a  settled  plan  of  travel, 


FROM  SHORE  TO  SHORE. 


261 


"  limited  to  the  expenditure  of  one  hundred  and  thirty-six 
dollars  and  seventy-five  cents,in  ninety  days;"  several  rep- 
resentative cranks,  freaks,  and  also,  a  good  many  sharpers 
and  gamblers.  All  these  things  amused  him.  The  line  of 
the  social  caste  began  with  the  buxom  unattached  married 
women,  with  or  without  their  daughters  of  varied  national 
ear-marks,  all  going  abroad  alone.  Their  distant  husbands 
were  safely  cut  off  now,  by  a  fifty-mile  chasm  of  roughening 
water.  Whether  persuaded  or  outwitted,  it  was  too  late  to 
"  call  back  "  these  heterogeneous  woman  pilgrims  to  their 
hearths  and  homes,  or  even  to  the  lonely  "flat,"  which 
" might "  or  " might  not"  mourn  the  vanished  footsteps! 
These  cheerful  ladies  varied  from  those  of  "  a  sternly  seri- 
ous purpose,"  indicated  by  their  "homemade  hoods  and 
waterproofs,"  up  to  the  dashing  dames  whose  furtively 
sparkling  eyes  and  evident  generous  money  provision,  shone 
out  their  set  purpose  "  to  have  a  good  time,"  while  they  were 

abroad. 

"All  this,  I  suppose,  makes  up  the  great  natural  Ameri- 
can character,"  sneered  Wyman.  "I  suppose  that  staid 
Europeans  must  think  America  is  composed  of  shoddy 
palaces,  with  workshops  in  the  basements,  dime  museum 
attachments,  and  'song  and  dance '  extras,  thrown  in." 
And,  for  the  first  time,  it  dawned  upon  him  that  five 
hundred  traveling  Americans,  of  any  social  or  moneyed 
grade,  are  a  most  queerly  assorted  lot.  Wyman  had  not 
yet  dabbled  in  Herbert  Spencer.  "  Heredity,  environ- 
ment, and  heterogenity "  were  so  far,  unmeaning  shib- 
boleths to  him,  so  he  merely  murmured,  "Well,  they 
are  a  queer  old  lot,  and  they  do  not  seem  to  belong,  to- 
gether by  any  earthly  rule,   save  that  of  the  first  cabin 

ticket." 

The  thronging   daughters,  with  bright  expectant  eyes, 
filled  all  the  different  grades,  from  the   "underdone  and 


262  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

overdressed  "  to  the  supremely  indifferent  « '  society  "  rose- 
bud. A  hovering  nimbus  of  men  glared  furtively  at  the 
wondrous  feminine  goods  the  Gods  had  provided.  Cer- 
tain family  groups  were  being  quickly  rallied  as  if  to 
verify  "the  tally  of  the  tribes."  These  were  well  defined 
nuclei  of  various  hostile  factions,  whose  horns,  now  '  'mighti- 
ly exalted,"  would  soon  be  locked  in  the  deadly  struggle 
for  "precedence,"  and  the  small  triumphs  of  the  Captain's 
table.  They  classed  up' from  the  overjoyed  "newly  pro- 
moted" on  their  first  trip,  usually  surrounded  with  hordes 
of  partly  developed  progeny  of  the  most  baleful  activity, 
and  the  frankly  buoyant  successful  speculators,  to  the 
mighty  mining  magnate,  a  scowling  bank  president;  the 
last,  with  "I  won't,"  written  in  every  line  of  his  puffy, 
bagged  eyelids.  Faded  aristocracy,  fragile  health,  the 
chaise  longue,  the  yard-stick  eyeglass,  with  the  attendant 
bran-new  "maid,"  and  the  too  evident  "valet  d'occa- 
sion," — dated  these  lords  and  ladies  back  to  the  days  of  gas- 
pipe  muskets,  paper  shoes  and  tin  swords,  provided  at  the 
fattest  contract  rates,  for  the  suppression  of  the  rebellion. 
Discordant  Daisy  Millers  of  diverse  types,  jostled  each  other 
on  the  slippery  cabin  stairs,  with  their  dreamy,  voluptuous 
young  eyes  hungry  for  the  first  sight  of  those  slim-waisted 
military  dandies  of  Europe,  who  go  so  far  for  the  first* 
sandwich,  a  glass  of  wine  and  the  pioneer  smile. 

"Wait  till  I  get  her  home,  at  Schloss  Pumpernickle," 
glowers  the  Baron  Ernest  Von  Pumpernickle  of  the  Second 
Hanoverian  Chasseurs.  "She  shall  to  sing  then,  of  a  dif- 
ferent song."  Two  of  these  bright-eyed  young  falcons, 
with  entangled  wings,  exchanged  mutual  glances  of  hatred 
a  la  Sioux  and  Pawnee.  "  Shoddy,"  exclaimed  the  pretty 
assailant.  "Ah!  No,  oil!"  replied  her  victim,  neatly  rising 
to  the  occasion.  There  was  an  evident  desire  here  to 
"draw  the  line,"  a  perpetual  operation,  daily  repeated, 


PROM  SHORE  TO  SHORE.  268 

whenever  traveling  Americans  meet,  which  proved  to  Wy- 
man  that  there  was  ' '  one  glory  of  the  moon,  and.  another 
of  the  stars,"  among  these  restless  samples  of  resultant 
American  social  life.  '  Fin  de  siecle '  had  not  yet  swept 
in  with  its  "baby  stare,"  ignoring  the  useful  past,  and 
only  glaring  onward  and  outward,  into  the  glittering 
summer  sea  of  the  newer  "American  aristocracy." 

Already,  the  great  break  for  vantage  points  in  the  smok- 
ing room  had  occurred,  but,  rising  pyramidal  above  all  the 
meaner  throng,  Wyman  noted  General  Hiram  Buforcl  and 
family,  of  California.     These  autocrats  long  had  hovered 
upon  one  of  the  pinnacles  of  "Nob  Hill,"  where  the  getting 
up  process,  had  been  successfully  achieved  in  days  of  yore. 
The  staying  up,  was  to  be  a  triumph  of  time !     It  was  there, 
on  Nob  Hill  alone,  that  the  invisible  line  was  drawn,  which 
so    far,  had  excluded  Frederick  Wyman,  Esq. ,  from  the 
loftiest  revels  of  San  Francisco.     There  were  but  two  re- 
maining feats  yet  to  achieve,  in  order  to  finish  his  labors  of 
Hercules.    The  first  was  to  obtain  the  entree  to  that  Calif  or- 
nian  Royal  Table  Round,  the  next,  to  lead  a  german  there, in 
triumph,  with  one  of  the  fairest  flowers  of  SanFrancisco  love- 
liness, etc.,  etc.     This  now  mysterious  cotillion  was  to  be  an 
affair  of  secret  and  furtive   future  study.     The  cast-iron 
lions,  zinc  tigers,  and  plaster  statues  of  "  Nob  Hill,"  had 
so  far,  fiercely  barred  his  upward  path,  as  he  grasped  that 
banner  with  the  strange  device,  "  Lone  Star."     He  had 
truly  reached  a  lofty  financial  height,  but  never  yet,  had 
dared  to  deem  that  he  could  safely  enter  the  doors  of  these 
unseasoned  redwood  palaces,  "  on  the  level." 

"  Milly!  There  are  the  Bufords,"  he  whispered  eagerly, 
as  Mrs.  Hammond  and  the  dainty  Gladys  moved  along  the 
deck,  at  his  side. 

The  errant  wife,  who  had  herself,  once  upon  a  time, 
trifled  away  a  few  forgotten  hours  with  General  Hiram 


264  MISS   DEVEEEUX    OF   THE   MAEIQUITA. 

Buford,  most  keenly  inspected  Mrs.  Pauline  Buford's  semi- 
reception  toilet,  in  which  she  was  most  royally  arrayed  for 
promenade,  dinner  and  the  mal-de-mer.  Her  diamonds 
were  all  there,  as  usual,  distinctly  visible  to  the  naked  eye. 
In  deference,  however,  to  Father  Neptune's  hoary  beard, 
Mrs.  Buford  had  not  worn  a  decollete'  costume.  That  was 
reserved,  "  the  most  unkindest  cut  of  all,"  for  the  august 
eyes  of  the  Empress  of  India. 

Neither  General  Hiram  Buford,  of  a  most  rugged  health, 
(gracefully  described  by  a  San  Francisco  paper  of  opposite 
politics,  as  "  an  overgrown  loafer,"),  nor  his  sturdy  wife, 
justly  famed  once  for  her  activity  in  the  practical  depart- 
ment of  a  small  country  hotel,  had  given  aught  but  royal 
descent  and  the  possibility  of  wealth  beyond  the  dreams  of 
avarice,  to  their  petted  and  anaemic  daughter,  Minnie. 

This  young  lady,  whose  attitude  indicated  an  entire  ab- 
sence of  spinal  column,  languidly  stared  at  that  young 
blooming  Diana,  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon.   ■ 

"  Rather  a  pretty  girl,"  moped  out  Miss  Minnie. 

Mrs.  Pauline  Buford  returned  Milly  Hammond's  stare, 
with  a  rooted  aversion,  and  compound  interest.  They  were 
secretly,  set  enemies.  The  one  sorrowed,  envying  the  solid 
substratum  of  Buford's  shekels;  the  other,  with  a  dull, 
burning  hatred,  stood  glowering  there,  recognizing  those 
meretricious  charms  of  mere  physical  beauty,  which,  with 
her  outwardly  better  selected  adornments  of  dress,  carried 
the  Hammond  far  beyond  her  haughty  sister  of  fashion. 
As  regarded  "  style"  and  "  go,"  Mrs.  Pauline  Buford  was 
outclassed,  nay,  distanced.  She  therefore,  handicapped 
Mrs.  Hammond  with  a  cold  cut. 

"  Do  you  know  those  two  women,  Pauline?  "  rQughly 
demanded  General  Buford. 

"Yes,  Hiram;  one  is  that  Hammond  woman,  you 
know" — the  General  winced  and  reddened  as  he  looked  at 


PROM  SHORE  TO  SHORE.  265 

a  passing  coal  schooner  with  a  sudden  interest — "  the 
other,  is.  the  sweet,  pretty  singer  girl  who  made  such  a  sen- 
sation at  the  Athelings'  down  at  Menlo.  I  suppose  she  is 
going  to  Europe  ta-Study." 

General  Buford  was  now  weighing  a  mighty  matter  in 
his  mind.  He  had  so  far,  allowed  Frederick  Wyman  to  pass 
on  with  a  half  nod  of  recognition,  but  the  young  man  was 
now  really  a  rising  financial  star.  He  twinkled  in  a  fixed 
glory,  a  veritable  "  Lone  Star."  Buford,  who  admired 
success  in  every  form,  had  a  vague  idea  that  Wyman  had 
"scalped  his  enemies"  to  the  very  frontal  bone,  "in  the 
last  great  deal."  Buford  always  idolized  "  smartness"  in 
all  its  phases,  from  a  cheap  horse  trade,  up  to  a  bold  bluff 
at  "  poker." 

"Pauline,"  Jie  said,  sotto  voce,  as  the  trio  reached  the 
far  limit  of  their  walk,  "  this  young  fellow  is  anew  power 
in  western  money  circles.  He  is  now  worth  a  cool  mil- 
lion. Wyman  is  also  a  bachelor.  He  can't  be  traveling 
with  these  people.  Suppose  that  I  ask  the  purser  to  put 
him  at  our  table?  " 

"  What  do  you  say,  Minnie?"  whispered  Mrs.  Pauline, 
who  secretly  feared  the  "washed-out"  looking  daughter, 
"who  had  been  through  a  seminary."  This  fact  was  im- 
pressed very  frequently  on  the  mother  by  the  shrewish  and 
spoiled  one  child  of  their  later  grandeur.  Miss  Minnie 
Buford  secretly  surveyed  Frederick  Wyman,  whose  outer 
man  was  a  tribute  to  the  sartorial  reforms  of  "Mr.  Bell 
of  New  York."  Wyman's  get  up  was  entirely  on  Bell's 
classic  lines.  "No  visible  effort;  general  effect;  that  is 
my  motto,  sir,"  Mr.  Bell  had  grandly  said,  as  Wyman 
had  left  his  hands  simply  perfect.  It  strangly  happened 
that  the  rugged  health,  glowing  eyes,  and  robust  outlines 
of  Wyman  pleased  the  thirsty-looking  maiden. 

"He's  not  so  bad  looking,  if  he's  not  too   rough;  you 


266  MISS    DEVEREOX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

can  introduce  him,  papa,"  decreed  the  young  virgin,  whose 
general  effect  was  that  of  a  human  glass  of  absinthe. 

Hence  and  therefore,  pride  beamed  in  the  glowing  eyes 
of  the  sole  owner  of  the  "Lone  Star,"  when  General 
Buf  ord  boomed  into  the  smoking-room  and  grandly  accosted 
him.  "Mr.  Wyman,"  said  he,  "  we  are  members  of  the 
same  club.  I  would  be  most  happy  to  present  you  to  my  wife 
and  daughter.  You  and  I,  don't  see  much  of  each  other 
at  home.  Our  lives  lie  in  different  places;  so,  I've  asked 
the  purser  to  put  you  at  our  table."  A  general  lifting  of 
heads,  and  the  rise  of  Wyman's  social  stock  to  fifty  per 
cent,  above  par,  followed  this  imposing  announcement,  as 
the  young  man  proceeded  to  "open  a  bottle." 

One  bright  hope  blossomed  here,  destined  to  shine 
illusive.  A  couple  of  card  sharpers  promptly  marked  Mr. 
Frederick  Wyman  down  as  rich,  young,  and  innocent, 
and,  the  protege  of  the  great  capitalist.  It  was  only  after 
several  nights  of  stout  battling,  that  the  two  dismayed 
sons  of  Mercury  "gave  it  up,  as  a  bad  job."  They  had 
skillfully  drawn  Wynian  into  a  "four-handed"  game. 
He  "  stood  out,"  when  the  "  painted  ladies  "  turned  away 
their  pretty  faces,  but,  he  "smote  those  Egyptians,"  hip 
and  thigh,  whenever  the  cards  ran  his  way.  It  was  a 
simple  transfer  of  coin  from  the  other  man  they  were 
successfully  fleecing,  to  the  lucky  Wyman. 

"Where  did  you  ever  learn  this  game?"  dejectedly 
asked  one  of  the  professionals  at  last. 

"In  off  nights,  during  the  long  winter  months  on  the 
Comstock,"  modestly  said  Wyman,  who  had  now  "gath- 
ered in  "  about  all  he  intended  to  allow  Milly  Hammond. 

"I  owe  you  an  humble  apology,  sir,"  said  the  frank 
professional  plunger;  "I  took  you  for  a  'sucker!'"  Mr. 
Wyman  was  still  wearing  the  triumphant  smile  which  had 
adorned  him  since  he  sat  -  by   the   side   of   Miss   Minnie 


From  shore  to  shore.  267 

Buford,  the  unapproachable.  She  was  always  surrounded 
with  a  chevaux-de-frise  of  acid  sharpness,  a  morally  de- 
praved bundle  of  physical  reticence,  misnamed  innocence. 

It  had  been  singularly  fortunate  for  Fred  Wyman,  cool- 
headed  in  his  gloomy  game  of  the  future,  that  he  did  not 
wish  to  identify  the  young  diva  with  his  name.  The 
"personal  attendance"  of  the  happy  Milly  Hammond, 
who  frolicked  secretly  in  her  delightful  double  life,  en- 
abled her  to  mark  the  chart  of  sweet  Gladys  Lyndon's  social 
life.  "All  at  sea"  were  the  travelers,  as  the  good 
* '  Britannic  "  sped  on.  Buford  had  at  last  gained  a  vague 
idea  that  his  daughter  might  find  a  very  fair  husband  in 
Wyman.  The  self-made  "general  "  had  the  same  aesthetic 
ideas  in  marrying  off  daughters  as  in  yoking  calves,  though 
his  blundering  indulgence  of  his  disagreeable  child's  whims 
was  carried  to  the  extreme  of  folly.  He  rather  liked 
Wyman  in  the  rapidly  growing  traveling  acquaintance. 
Their  lives  were  really  different.  The  General's  special 
line  was  stealing  ranches,  and  grabbing  all  exposed  proper- 
ties, where  need  or  ignorance  gave  him  play  for  his  peculiar 
talents.  Wyman  confined  himself  only  to  robbery,  pure 
and  simple,  with  the  little  background  of  second-hand 
"murder,"  as  a  lurid  scenario. 

In  their  "heart  of  hearts,"  they  were  both  the  same. 
General  Buford  allowed  his  wife  a  fair  pull  at  the  family 
"pagoda  tree"  undisturbed,  while  she  prudently  allowed 
him  "  carte  blanche  "  in  his  drinking,  poker  playing  and 
what  he  was  pleased  to  term  "his  private  life!"  While 
not  exactly  of  the  wildest  "  Bonanza  days  "  school,  Gen- 
eral Hiram  Buford,  to  use  his  own  comprehensive  term, 
"had  made  his  life  a  pretty  fair  picnic."  So,  the  new 
friends  were  both  "  shining  ones  "  in  the  "  staccato  "  style 
of  modern  Calif orni an  elegance.  If  they  had  not  "the 
repose  which  stamps  the  caste  of  Vere  de  Vere,"  they  had 


268  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

both  very  definite  ideas  as  to  "waking  up"  London  and 
Paris. 

"Wyman,  my  boy,"  said  the  General,  upon  the  final 
cementing  of  their  friendship,  "you  and  I,  must  go  around 
a  little  in  London  and  Paris  together.  By  the  way,  your 
friend  Mrs.  Hammond  over  there,  ought  to  remember  me. 
She  is  a  mighty  fine  woman."  It  was  tacitly  agreed, 
through  the  delicate  intercession  of  Wyman,  that  General 
Hiram  Buford  and  Mrs.  Hammond  "knew  each  other," 
when  the  rosy  and  watchful  Mrs.  Buford  was  below.  This 
fortunate  juncture  aided  Wyman  in  the  long  and  earnest 
daily  conferences  with  Gladys  Lyndon,  when,  under  the 
stars,  "  lost  in  the  night  and  the  light  of  the  sea,"  the  girl 
poured  out  her  hopeful  imaginings  to  the  man  her  grateful 
heart  had  ennobled.     A  hero  of  nature's  making! 

For,  she  had  spoken  to  him  words  which  were  of  promise, 
when,  out  on  the  lonely  sea,  she  felt  herself  freed  from  the 
sound  of  all  earthly  jars,  of  all  the  fret  and  bustle  of  a 
great  unfamiliar  city.  It  had  been  easy  for  Gladys 
Lyndon  to  free  her  happy  heart  to  Mrs.  Hammond.  To 
do  that  easy-going  western  dazzler  justice,  she  was  really 
constitutionally  good-hearted.  She  did  not  like  to  see 
any  empty  glass  near,  when  the  wine  of  life  was  to  be  had 
for  the  asking.  It  had  been  so  many  years  that  she  had 
softly  glided  down  the  stream  of  her  gay  life,  padding  her 
ears  against  the  voice  of  Conscience  with  jeweled  fingers, 
that  she  realized  no  special  treachery  in  her  behavior 
toward  Gladys  Lyndon.  It  seemed  as  if  she  were  only  a 
new  female  Talleyrand,  arranging  the  easy  turning  of  a 
sharp  social  corner.  In  fact,  she  regarded  the  judicious 
and  confidential  use  of  womanly  charms,  as  only  the  avail- 
ing of  a  certain  natural  capital,  most  fortunately  always 
at  the  secret  disposal  of  struggling  womanhood. 

In  her  own  inmost  soul,  she  debated  not  the  propriety  of 


FROM  SHORE  TO  SHORE.  269 

the  marketing  of  beauty,  either  in  the  bud,  blossom,  or  full 
flower.  She  had  no  inmost  soul,  and  her  only  daily  care 
was  the  tasteful  decoration  of  her  external  body.  Intro- 
spection was  not  her  strong  forte,  but,  in  circumspection, 
she  was  a  very  Vidocq.  A  perfectly  balanced  tempera- 
ment, she  abhorred  scenes  and  all  strong  emotions,  as  pro- 
ductive of  wrinkles,  which,  on  brow  or  dress,  were  her 
especial  earthly  tormentors.  Whenever  she  had  felt  the 
rosy  charms  of  love  tighten,  to  avoid  an  undue  strain,  she 
had  either  slipped  them,  cut  them,  or  gently  loosened 
them.  "  Never  struggle  for  Empire,"  she  had  confided  to 
a  practical  young  occidental  femme  galante.  "When- 
ever you  reach  that  phase,  let  the  man  at  once  go.  He 
is  gone  already!  " 

As  marvelously  adaptable  as  most  middle  class  American 
women  are,  she  steered  her  frail  bark  safely  past  the  rocks 
of  Scandal,  for,  the  gordian-knot  of  the  long  tow  rope  of 
her  husband  kept  her  in  the  thread  of  the  open  channel. 
He  was  not  much  of  a  husband,  still,  he  was  a  visible 
entity,  and  had  "a  local  habitation  and  name,"  both  of 
which  she  availed  herself  of,  and  she  "pointed  with 
pride  "  to  the  fact  that  she  had  very  few  enemies  among 
the  fair  sex,  and  kept  her  name  out  of  the  newspapers. 
In  this  well-chosen  course,  she  moved  safely  along,  always 
selecting  her  favorites  from  those  who  had  more  to  lose 
by  a  public  clamor  than  herself.     A  wise  Griselda! 

The  frank  kindness  with  which  she  had  Avon  Gladys 
Lyndon's  heart,  was  supplemented  with  a  really  delicate 
consideration,  in  not  forcing  herself  upon  the  girl's  soul- 
confidence;  and  so,  the  orphan  had  easily  unburdened  her 
heart  to  the  sympathetic  schemer. 

It  was  far  different  when  Gladys  spoke  out  with  falter- 
ing accents  to  Wyman.  They  were  alone  on  the  deck, 
and  the  girl's  failing  voice  and  broken  accents  told  him  of 
delicate  feelings  new  to  him. 


2*70  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

4 '  You  shall  never  repent  your  kindness !  I  will  show  to 
you  how  I  can  return  your  noble  generosity !  There  is  a 
great  world  on  whose  threshold  I  stand.  It  is  lit  up  with 
the  rays  of  art.  It  throbs  with  the  sweetness  of  song. 
When  I  have  earned  a  place  in  the  hearts  of  the  great 
generous  public,  if  I  am  not  beaten  in  this  race  of  life,  I 
can  return  your  present  help,  but  my  grateful  heart  will 
always  hold  you  sacred,  as  a  brother,  as  one  who  has  lifted 
me  out  of  darkness."  "Don't  speak  of  it,  Miss  Lyndon,  I 
am  confident  of  your  future  success,  but,  you  are  agitated. 
Let  me  conduct  you  below.  Some  other  time,  we  can  talk 
of  all  this ;  when  you  are  settled  in  Paris ;  when  you  have 
had  the  opinions  of  the  great  experts  upon  your  voice." 
And,  he  was  really  honest,  at  the  moment,  for  the  girl, 
clinging  to  his  arm,  was  now  looking  up  at  him  with  softly 
shining  eyes,  and  it  smote  his  heart  that  she  trusted  him 
so  implicitly,  so  fearlessly.  She  would  have  been  fairer 
game  if  she  were  rusee,  and  had  touched  the  cup  of  Life. 

Wyman  learned  to  interpret  that  strange  feeling  later 
when  he  strayed  alone  into  great  silent  cathedrals,  where 
his  foot  waked  the  echoes  of  God's  hallowed  temples. 
The  half-fledged  borderer,  silent  in  awe,  paused  there 
frightened  at  the  audible  proof  of  his  own  presence  on  the 
threshold.  ."  I  have  no  business  to  be  here,"  he  humbly  and 
involuntarily,  admitted ;  and  so,  on  this  first  night  of  the 
proud  girl's  shy  avowal,  he  felt  that  he  stood  upon  the 
threshold  of  a  new  womanhood,  one  too  fair,  too  pure,  too 
holy  to  be  profaned  by  his  presence.  And  yet, the  fatal 
glamor  of  her  beauty,  the  thrill  of  her  witching  voice,  the 
magnetic  thrall  which,  unknown  to  herself,  she  cast  over 
him,  the  banked  fires  of  his  passion,  all  these  held  him  on 
the  course  which  marked  her  as  his  future  prey.  But 
awed  by  her  virginal  trust  in  his  manhood  and  honor, 
startled  at  her   blind  belief  in  his   being  the  man  he 


FROM  SHORE  TO  SHORE.  271 

claimed  to  be,  he  muttered  as  he  walked  the  deck  aldne. 
"By  God!  she  is  truly  a  human  icicle.  If  I  ever  hear 
that  girl  say,  *  I  love  you,'  I  will  have  to  marry  her,"  and 
his  feet,  unfamiliar  with  the  paths  of  rectitude,  and  the 
mazes  of  high  life,  stumbled  often  as  he  went  on  his  way, 
borne  over  the  rude  Atlantic  billows. 

He  had  long  been  subjected  to  rough  half -confidences 
of  the  doughty  western  financial  "general."  "  Wyman, 
my  dear  boy,"  Buford  had  boomed  out,  "  I  know  that 
you  have  some  money  scheme,  in  London  and  Paris.  You 
are  not  merely  here  for  a  good  time.  You  are  much  too 
young  to  retire !  1  don't  care  how  much  money  you  have  got. 
Now,  I  am  a  bit  lonely,  you  see,"  he  became  confidential 
over  his  fourth  brandy  and  soda.  "  To  be  nailed  always 
to  my  wife  and  daughter,  is  a  little,  just  a  little,  too  wear- 
ing. They  both  want  to  rush  off  to  Paris,  millinery  and 
all  that ;  but,  I  have  some  important  private  affairs  in  London. 
Come  over  there  with  me.  Go  out  into  society  a  bit. 
Look  around  a  little.  I'll  make  you  all  solid  with  the 
American  minister.  He's  going  to  present  my  people  at 
Court, by  and  by.  I  can  give  you  a  clear  footing  in  busi- 
ness and  moneyed  circles.  Then,  when  we  are  done,  you 
and  I  can  slip  off,  and  have  a  little  racket  together,  on  the 
continent." 

The  new  candidate  for  Nob  Hill  favor,  thought  instantly 
of  the  "very  present  help,"  in  his  schemes  for  marketing 
a  portion  of  the  "Lone  Star."  He  was  conscious  of  the 
future  advantages  of  an  entry  of  his  own  name,  in  the 
< '  Libro  d'oro  "  of  San  Francisco.  < '  I  might  do  worse  than 
marry  that  Buford  girl!  "  he  thought. 

It  seemed  that  the  house  of  Buford  was  "securely 
planted "  on  the  great  hill,  where  a  budding  Californian 
autocracy  now  Avore  divided  crowns,  and,  it  showed  no 
present  symptoms  of  "sliding  down."     "  I  think  I'll  see  if 


272  MISS   DEVERETJX   OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

loneliness  and  a  little  hard  work,  will  not  warm  up  my 
Snow  Queen.  It  may  bring  her  to  reason;"  so  he  thought 
and  hence,  promptly  answered:  "General,  I  will  thank- 
fully accept  your  kind  offer."  He  mused,  "lean  leave 
Milly  Hammond  to  knock  about  Paris  alone  a  bit,  and 
Morani  can  have  her  little  secret  game  easily  watched  for 
me." 

The  rapprochement  of  the  two  rich  men  did  not  in- 
clude Mrs.  Hammond  and  Gladys  Lyndon.  The  matron 
was  airing  her  most  charming  graces,  and  Miss  Lyndon's 
voice  ,  had  already  betrayed  itself.  Thus,  while  the 
steamer  passed  on,  in  smooth  seas,  under  mellow  summer 
skies,  there  were  those  of  the  passengers  who  lingered  in 
delight  to  watch  the  rapt  face  of  the  happy  girl  at  the 
piano  in  the  ladies  "  Social  hall." 

Seated  in  a  quiet  corner,  Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis,  whose 
card  bore  the  words  "  Tremont  Club,  Boston,"  while  veil- 
ing his  growing  interest,  keenly  studied  the  peculiar  tie 
binding  the  beautiful  Miss  Lyndon  to  Wyman,  whom  he  in- 
stinctively extremely  disliked.  Otis,  < '  Jack  "  or  < '  Wayne," 
to  his  friends,  was  now  returning  to  the  continent,  to  fin- 
ish certain  delayed  researches  in  Paris,  which  had  busied 
him  since  he  had  left  Harvard  a  dozen  years  before,  with 
the  still  illusive  purpose  of  finishing  his  great  work 
upon  "Modern  Architecture."  An  easy  future,  a  large 
acquaintance,  an  all  round  aptitude  at  athletics,  hunting 
and  yachting,  and  a  varying  purpose,  enabled  Mr.  Jack 
Otis  to  drift  easily  along  in  life,  taking  current  notes  of 
men  and  things,  in  a  delightfully  lotos-like  way.  He  had 
long  ago,  finished  all  his  globe  trotting,  and  the  great  "pur- 
pose of  his  life"  had  so  far  returned  to  him,  that  he  was  now 
casting  out  a  sheet-anchor  for  a  considerable  stay  in  Paris. 
Jack  had  achieved  a  "very  good  time  "  in  New  York  and 
Boston,  during  the  past  winter,  and  was,  therefore,   now 


FR03f  SHORE  TO  SHORE.  273 

hoping  that  a  sudden  plenitude  of  ideas  would  graft  him 
on  the  French  stock,  long  enough  for  the  American  blos- 
soms of  his  vicarious  studies  to  bear  golden  fruit. 

He  had  been  startled,  on  the  night  of  the  girl's  first 
earnest  avowal  of  gratitude  to  Wyman,  to  be  the  involun- 
tary spectator  of  her  clinging  to  Wyman's  arm  in  an  ap- 
pealing manner,  and  her  evident  agitation  as  the  nouveau 
riche  led  the  excited  orphan  girl  to  the  companionway. 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  can  make  it  out!"  cried  Otis, 
the  next  evening,  as  he  tossed  his  half  smoked  cigar  over 
into  the  boiling  wake  of  the  liner,and  then  sullenly  "turned 
in."  Old  Orion  "sloping  slowly  to  the  west,"  told  him 
none  of  the  secrets  of  the  long  evening  walks  of  Wyman 
and  Gladys  Lyndon.  "  If  this  is  any  <  Romance  of  the 
Nineteenth  Century,'  I'll  jump  overboard,"  growled  the 
Bostonian.  i '  This  is  a  noble  woman,  if  there  is  any  seal  of 
nature  which  can  not  be  counterfeited.  It  is,  however,  a 
strange  trio.  The  handsome,  giddy  dame,  a  Queen  of  Dia- 
monds; this  blue-eyed  beauty  with  brows  of  light,  a  queen 
of  Hearts,  to  be;  the  Westerner,  a  lucky  Jack  of  Spades, 
and  queerly  shuffled  into  this  pack  of  Life's  cards.  They 
are  diverse  in  every  way.  They  should  soon  naturally 
drift  apart,  and  yet,  there  is  evidently  some  hidden  pur- 
pose; and  this  young  '  Bonanza  star,'  he  seems  to  be  himself 
in  some  way,  attached  to  that  '  wild  ass  of  the  wilderness,' 
General  Hiram  Buford.  He  is  devotedly  nursed,  too,  by 
the  reigning  Queen  of  the  House  of  Buford,  and,  moreover, 
is  not  inimical  to  the  Princess  Buford,  she  of  the  green  eyes, 
and  molasses-candy  colored  hair.  And  these  and  those,  are 
divided  "  by  the  dark  tide  of  royal  blood,"  which  cuts  off 
the  Golden  Ass  and  his  brood,  from  all  people  of  slimmer 
exchequer." 

Jack  Otis  had  early   "pasted in  his   hat"    the   adage, 
"  Mind  your  own  business,"  and  yet,  his  soul  was  drawn 


2*74  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

to  Gladys  Lyndon  by  the  matchless  witchery  of  her  voice, 
by  the  proud  reserve  of  her  manner,  by  the  nameless  charm 
which  lingered  around  her  stately  presence.  In  vain  he 
sought  for  a  fitting  key  to  the  enigma,  and  the  discovery  of 
several  furtive  tete-a-tetes  between  General  Buford  and 
the  vivacious  Mrs.  Hammond,  at  night,  near  the  jungles 
of  the  "  torrid  zone  "  of  the  smoke  stacks,  only  increased 
his  wonder.  "Ah!  the  General  makes  incursions  into 
Wyman's  unguarded  lines,  while  the  young  capitalist 
worms  himself  into  the  bosom  of  his  family."  It  was  a 
strange  tangle,  and  Otis,  who  had  himself  spent  a  winter 
"on  trial"  in  San  Francisco,  and  had  experienced  that 
peculiar  environment,  known  as  a  "hearty  Calif ornian  wel- 
come," blushed  to  own  that  he  was  forced  to  ascribe  this 
singular  state  of  affairs  again  to  "  the  climate,"  that  poor 
oft-burdened  scapegoat,  which  meekly  suffereth  much 
aspersion  by  the  Golden  Gate. 

The  accidental  fall  of  a  book  enabled  Mr.  Otis  to  win  a 
smile,  and  a  low-murmured  "Thank  you,"  from  Miss 
Lyndon,  a  few  days  after  leaving  New  York.  The  prepar- 
ation for  a  mid-ocean  concert,  in  which  Mr.  Jack  Otis 
was  "de  rigueur,"  the  Master  of  Ceremonies,  brought  him 
also  formally  into  the  circle  of  Gladys  Lyndon's  "steamer 
acquaintance."  Youth,  time,  and  opportunity  did  the 
rest.  The  little  companion  volume,  Thomas  a  Kempis, 
the  girl's  sweet,  serious,  stately  womanhood,  the  sympa- 
thetic reaching  out  of  her  troubled  heart,  to  meet  his  own 
soul,  yearning  toward  her,  made  the  middle  and  closing 
days  of  this  voyage  memorable  in  the  life  of  the  man  who 
was  destined  by  Fate  never  to  complete  that  monument  of 
midnight  toil,  the  magnum  opus,  "Modern  Architecture." 
Its  completed  title  and  some  fragmentary  chapter  headings 
will  be  handed  down  for  many  generations  in  the  Otis 
family,  as  a  visible  proof  of  how  near  LTncle  Jack  came  to 


FROM  SHORE  TO  SHORE.  275 

being  known  over  the  whole  thinking  world,  as  an  orig- 
inal genius  and  a  mind  of  the  first  order!  •  The  necessity 
of  frequent  rehearsals  of  the  musical  program,  the  rapid 
growth  of  the  mystic  libers  knitting  these  two  drifting 
souls  together,  the  long  conferences  over  art  and  music, 
the  placing  of  a  really  solid  Parisian  experience  at  the  dis- 
posal of  Miss  Lyndon, arid  much  star-gazing,  brought  them 
very  near  in  heart, searching  the  horizon  while  around  them, 
"all  unheeded,  the  waste  of  waters  drifted  by,"  had  its 
charms,  and,  it  also  developed  Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis  into  a 
first-class  builder  of  "  Castles  in  Spain."  He  had  learned 
all  the  simple  story  of  her  future  hopes,  and  had  divided 
the  thrill  of  her  noble  womanly  ambition.  Side  by  side 
on  the  swelling  tide,  they  glided  along  unwittingly  into 
the  delicious  confidential  intimacy  of  nature's  own  selec- 
tion. And,  the  shy  girl,  now  unfolding,  in  the  quiet  of 
this  congenial  heart  companion,  leaf  after  leaf  of  her 
nature,  glowTed  as  a  conqueror  through  her  timid  heaving 
bosom,  showing  out  the  rosy  life  and  love  gleaming  there 
within  in  the  alabaster  lamp  of  her  pure  heart.  It  seemed 
so  strange,  it  seemed  as  if  the  viewless  spirits  of  the  air 
had  breathed  some  awakening  upon  these  two  stranger 
hearts,  for,  they  were  all  alone  out  on  the  sea,  and  the 
cultured  mind  of  the  young  Harvard  man  found  its  sup- 
plement  in  the  delicate,  dreamy  enthusiasm  of  the  pure- 
hearted  girl.  There  was  neither  haste  nor  hurry.  There 
was  no  kindling  of  a  passion-fanned  glow.  The  current 
of  their  lives  flowed  together  in  the  mingled  tide  of  a 
common  sympathy  and  aspiration,  for,  they  were  in  the 
very  morning  time  of  life,  and  only  to  be  near  each  other 
seemed  to  be  the  dearest  boon  of  the  friendly  stars  which 
found  them  so  often  now  lingering  on  deck  in  late  con- 
verse. 

It  was  not  strange  that  the  confident  Wyman  noted  not 


276  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

the  growing  intimacy  of  the  man  and  maid,  for  his  own 
appetite  for  pronounced  "high  life,"  of  the  pictorial 
order,  grew  daily,  and  in  a  certain  general  loose  way, 
that  pompous  financial  Boanerges,  Hiram  Buford,  devoted 
much  of  his  valuable  time  to  past  reminiscences  and 
keen  future  plot-weaving  with  the  keen,  fresh-brained 
young  speculator. 

Happy  Milly  Hammond  was  also  constrained,  by  mere 
prudence,  to  allow  Frederick  Wyman,  Esq. ,  a  free  field  in 
the  presence  of  her  redoubtable  secret  enemy,  Mrs.  Buford, 
whom  she  feared,  and  she  also  nourished  a  budding  revenge 
in  planting  a  little  crop  of  fern  seed,  to  surround  with  an 
invisible  charm,  a  brilliant  future  campaign  in  San 
Francisco.  It  was  fenced  in  with  a  hedge  to  be  forever 
impregnable  to  the  argus-eyed  Mrs.  Buford. 

"  The  fact  is,  General,"  the  fair  Hammond  whispered,  as 
she  leaned  heavily  on  the  arm  of  this  "  Strong  man  in 
Israel,"  "you  need  a  daily  congenial  companionship.  A 
man  of  your  prominence,"  and  here,  the  General  swelled 
visibly,  "should  have  a  little  eyrie  of  his  own  where  he 
can  have  the  company  of  a  friendly  soul,  unknown  to  all 
the  cold  schemers  of  every-day  life." 

Milly  Hammond  had  located  that  same  "eyrie"  in  her 
own  cosy  house  on  her  return,  and  the  "bald-headed 
eagle  "  who  now  blinked  under  her  honey  words,  was  both 
hopeful  and  complaisant.  ' '  I  have  long  thought  of  such 
an  idea.  It  fills  a  long  felt  want !  Wait,  only  wait,  till 
we  are  home  again,  in  San  Francisco,"  the  thick-voiced 
old  Romeo  whispered,  and  so,  the  star  of  hope  shone  very 
brightly  out  for  him  over  the  future  years  to  be,  for,  in 
her  unprejudiced  mind,  Milly  Hammond  had  decided  that 
some  strong  wave  of  fortune  might  sweep  her  off  her 
present  safe  perch,  far  away  from  Wyman,  whose  vanity 
and  egoistic  conceit  she  had  recognized  with  judicial  calm- 
ness, the   light   of  long  experience   in  varying   manhood. 


FROM  SHORE  TO  SHORE.  27? 

1 l  He  is  young  and  also  '  dead  gone '  on  himself.  Young 
men  are  also  so  much  harder  to  handle  than  men  of  a  cer- 
tain age,  sensible  men,  like  the  General,"  and  Mrs.  Milly 
Hammond  thus  closed  her  eyes  on  this  night  of  most 
pleasant  prognostications  with  a  dreamy  far-away  look, 
which  boded  no  good  for  the  future  peace  of  that  highly 
illustrated  fashion  plate,  Mrs.  General  -Hiram  Buford, 
for  she  had  sworn  to  get  even." 

Mr.  Jack  Otis  bore  a  furrowed  brow,  as  the  steamer 
gradually  neared  the  Old  World.  He  now  walked  the 
swaying  decks,  often  alone,  when  sheer  prudence  kept  him 
from  the  side  of  Gladys  Lyndon,  with  the  instinctive 
jealousy  of  a  lover.  He  also  avoided  Mr.  Frederick 
Wyman,  but  his  care  was  altogether  unnecessary. 

The  daily  additions  to  a  higher  pedestal  whereon  to 
worship  himself,  was  Wyman's  continual  work.  He  was 
now  the  "  observed  of  all  observers,"  and  a  mantle  of  the 
newest  dignity  settled  upon  his  shoulders,  for  the  compan- 
ionship of  Hiram  Buford  had  made  him  a  steamer  notable. 
He  already  saw  his  triumphal  sweep  up  Nob  Hill  as  a 
conqueror,  in  his  own  carriage. '  A  fair-faced  wife  gazing 
out  from  the  palace  windows,  with  waiting  smiles  for  her 
returning  lord.  This  would  have  splendidly  completed 
the  picture  of  this  Virginia  City  Claude  Melnotte.  And 
yet,  it  liked  my  lord  not,  to  fancy  the  "  spirit  of  human 
absinthe  "  hovering  over  him  in  the  guise  of  that  alert  and 
passionate-hearted,  spoiled  child  of  fortune,  "Minnie 
Buford.  "  God  knows,  she  is  bright  enough,"  Wyman 
muttered.  "  But,  she  has  only  a  steel  wedge  in  place  of  a 
heart.  Now,  if  Gladys — !"  And,  though  the  feet  of  Minnie 
were  "beautiful  upon  the  mountains"  of  the  sacred 
western  aristocracy,  there  was  a  burning  drift  of  passion's 
boiling  tide  which  carried  him  back  to  the  side  of  Gladys, 
the  friendlesss  child  of  genius. 


2*78  MISS   DEVEREUX   OF   THE   MA.RIQUITA. 

"  Milly,  this  k  young  Yankee  prince  '  seems  growing  very 
devoted  to  Gladys,"  at  last,  remarked  Wyman;  for  Jack 
Otis  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  lofty  specimen  pattern  of  Boston 
coldness,  and,  by  common  consent,  he  was  the  "Prince 
Charming,  "  of  the  voyage.  "I  don't  see  what  there  is  in 
that  chap.  He's  a  sort  of  draughtsman,  or  <  rising  con- 
tractor,' is  he  not?" 

"Ah!  Fred,  let  him  alone.  He  has  taken  a  good  deal 
of  friendly  interest  in  Gladys'  musical  plans.  He  is  a 
swell  in  his  way,  and,  there's  a  good  deal,  too,  in  a  Yan- 
kee swell,  of  his  class,"  mused  Mrs.  Hammond."  "  He  is 
unexceptionable,  and,  he  knows  his  Paris.  Now,  the  very 
delicacy  of  Gladys'  position  toward  you,  makes  her  very 
anxious  that  gossip  should  not  connect  your  two  names. 
He  will  soon  drift  away  when  we  are  all  settled  in 
Paris." 

Mr.  Jack  Otis,  contemplating  a  tired  sea  bird  perched 
on  the  yard  arm,  whistled,  "  There's  a  sweet  little  cherub 
who  sits  up  aloft,"  and  he  secretly  resolved  not  to  drift  very 
far  away  from  the  woman  whom  he  was  learning  to  love. 
He  thought  of  her  queening  it  in  a  certain  old  home  near 
Cambridge,  when  he  was  lord  and  master  of  its  fringing 
shade  trees  and  fragrant  lawn,  where  King  George's 
officers  had  taken  their  dish  of  tea  in  stately  form, long  be- 
fore the  baby  stars  gleamed  on  the  world's  brightest  flag! 

"Maud,  with  her  exquisite  face,  and  her  wild  voice  peal- 
ing out  to  the  sunny  sky,"  he  murmured.  The  possible 
picture  was  a  thrill  to  every  nerve.  "  But,  my  mother," 
he  paused  and  ominously  gazed  at  a  black  storm  cloud 
driving  down  upon  them,  "  What  would  she  say?"  He 
thought,  with  a  sudden  start,  that  he  was  the  last  of  his 
line.  His  stately  mother  had  held  up  her  head  with  Roman 
pride  when  her  eldest  son  was  brought  home  from  his 
.  country's  war,  his    sword   lying   on  the  flag  covering  his 


FROM  SHORE  TO  SHORE.  279 

gallant  breast,    cold  forever  in  death.     He  had  fallen  a 
bright  sacrifice  in  the  awful  conflict 

"  That  was  waged  with  fiendish  mania, 
On  the  field  of  Spottsylvania." 

She  had  guarded  the  proud  silence  of  the  grief  of  a  mother 
of  heroes,  and  yet,  Jack  Otis  knew  she  would  sooner  see 
him,  too,. laid  away  in  the  grave  than  to  have  him  break 
the  "even  current"  of  the  honor  of  the  old  family  by  a 
mesalliance.  "What  do  I  really  know  of  this  girl?"  a 
gnawing  fiend  of  prudence  whispered.  "Her  obscure 
youth,  her  silence  as  to  her  family  name,  the  close  cramp- 
ing wall  of  a  convent  education,  confining  her  splendid 
mind,  her  western  point  of  social  departure  (my  mother's 
especial  aversion),  and,  the  company  I  find  her  in  ! " 

Jack  Otis  recognized  that  flaring  light,  Mrs.  Milly  Ham- 
mond, as  a  star  member  of  the  ' '  Executive  Committee  of 
the  Us  Girls'  Society."  He  trusted  not  to  the  sleek  and 
decorous  exterior  of  this  tiger  in  ribbony  chains,  for,  in 
sooth,  "playing  propriety,"  was  galling  to  Milly,  and, 
she  now  promised  herself  secretly  a  "  horrible  revenge"  in 
an  "  out  and  out"  Parisian  frolic  with  Fred,  and  also  a  little 
"  exploring  tour"  with  the  buoyant  Hiram  Buford,  "on 
the  strict  Q.  T."  The  General  felt  himself  quite  a  Lothario 
in  moving  on  this  little  sly  game  along,  under  the  very  eyes  of 
the  partner  of  his  bosom.  Mrs.  Hammond  was  "evening 
up,  "  daily  for  the  cold  cuts  of  the  wife. 

"  But,  there  is  nothing  in  common  between  them,"  de- 
cided Jack.  He  only  saw  beneath  the  silken  armor  of 
Milly  a  very  fallible  nature.  He  murmured  as  he  gazed 
on  her  gyrations  around  the  deck,  in  the  words  of  his  old 
Professor,  the  beloved  Holmes : 

"  \yeVe  seen  a  deal  of  life,  iny  boy,  it3  varnish  and  veneer, 
Its  stucco  fronts  of  character  flake  off  and  disappear! " 


280  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF   THE   MAEIQUITA. 

"  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  was  right,"  gaily  cried  Jack,hia 
heart  lightening.  "  It  is  only  her  character  which  is  all 
'  stucco,'  for,  her  figure  and  complexion  are  nature's  prod- 
igal gifts.  This  much  of  Mrs.  Hammond,  is  real."  It 
was  even  so,  and  the  fair  delegate  from  California  thanked 
God  for  it,  too,  nightly,  as  she  stood  before  the  diminutive 
glass  in  her  lonely  cabin. 

"But,  there's  no  stucco  in  Gladys.  She  is  real  and  all 
that  I  would  have  her,"  he  stoutly  murmured,  and  yet, 
he  knew  there  was  still  the  silent  citadel  of  her  heart  to  be 
stormed.  Her  unawakened  nature  might  glow  in  a  rose 
light  under  some  other  man's  touch  than  his  own.  "  She 
cannot  design  a  present  marriage  with  that  Jack  of  Spades, 
now  in  training  for  the  entry  as  '  Golden  Ass,  No.  2 ! ' 
No!  He  will  probably  marry  Miss  Minnie, and  become  a 
member  of  that  great  '  moral  show '  of  agglomerated 
eminence,  known  in  Californian  lingo  as  '  the  Buford  out- 
fit.' I  wonder  if  he  is  a  relative  of  this  bright-eyed 
kestrel,  Madame  Hammond,  the  free  companion." 
Horrible  memories  of  vanished  men  he  had  known,  who 
had  "gone  wrong,"  at  the  altar,  now  haunted  him. 

Alas!  Of  all  the  boys  whose  "faith  had  blinded  their 
eyes,"  not  one,  had  "  lived  happily  ever  afterwards."  On 
the  contrary,  the  men  of  his  own  grade  who  had  married 
"interesting  orphans,"  " wandering  Russian  princesses," 
"rising  artists,"  "stray  Italian  Contesses,"  watering 
place  ' <  Marquises, "  or  '  'Hungarian  nobledames, "  with  dark 
flashing  eyes,  and  a  "pathetic  smile,"  had  been  afterwards 
seen,  in  search  of  either  the  most  available  divorce  courts, 
or  else,  sought  shops  where  cheap  revolvers  were  within 
the  reach  of  themost  modest  purse.  A  few,  had  sullenly 
drank  themselves  to  death.  In  theory,  Jack  Otis  con- 
temned all  romance.  He  was  a  most  practical  landlord, also, 
and  very  acute  in  casting  up  his  own  bank  account.  He  had 


FROM  SHORE  TO  SHORE.  281 

grimly  smiled  at  all  these  uncanny  social  happenings  of 
the  past.     He  had  sighed 

"  They  go!    The  festive  cusses  go!  " 

as  these  men,  "shot  madly  from  their  spheres,"  and,  had 
often  laughed,  "No,  sir!  No  King  Cophetua  part  in  the 
play  of  Life  for  me. "  The  shrewd  remark  of  his  old  Scotch 
nurse  haunted  him:  "Marry  a  cat  of  your  ain  kind,  an' 
she'll  no' scratch  ye."  In  fact,  his  own  negro  factotum, 
Mr.  Jackson,  "  a  gentleman  of  color,"  who  "  carried  the 
banner,"  for  the  Otis  family,  in  feudal  style,  had  re- 
marked, as  Jack's  own  college  chum  had  "bet  the  queen 
to  win,"  in  a  singular  alliance,  founded  upon  the  sudden 
discovery  of  a  "peerless  beauty"  of  strange  antecedents, 
<  'The  most  prettiest  snakes,  has  often,  the  most  pizenist 
skins!" 

Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis  held  the  Admiralty  Court  of 
Love  in  solemn  session,for  some  time,  as  he  walked  the  deck, 
the  secret  admiration  of  certain  shy  sisters,  and  falling  even 
under  the  approving  eye  of  Mrs.  Hammond.  "All  that 
boy  needs,  is  a  little  drawing  out,"  murmured  Milly,  gaz- 
ing at  the  neat  form  of  the  young  athlete,  whose  clustering 
brown  curls,  bright  gray-blue  eyes,  sweeping  brown  mus- 
tache, and  sunny  face,  gave  a  cheering  brightness  to  the 
resolute  character  shown  by  his  broad  brow.  The  well-cut 
classic  head,  with  its  regular  features,  square  jaw  and 
carven  soldierly  chin,  showed  a  man,  not  a  mere  mask  of 
life.  Deceptive  were  his  "summer  grays,"  for  with  a 
crimson  handkerchief  knotted  over  a  forehead  under  which 
gleaming  eyes  set  in  the  frenzy  of  America's  Olympian 
games,  Jack  Otis  had  shown  the  finest  gleaming  brown 
torso,  and  sternest  whipcord  muscles,  in  the  whole  crew, 
when  the  captain  of  the  eight  had  yelled  "Now,"  and,  un- 


282  MISS    DEVEREUX    0¥    THE    MARIQUITA. 

der  the  eyes  of  his  sweet  "  college  girl,"  he  had  helped  to 
thrash  Yale,  in  a  never  forgotten  victory.  To  use  the 
words  of  that  pretty  girl,  long  since  drifted  far  away  on 
matrimonial  seas,  "Jack  Otis  was  all  there." 

In  his  moody  unrest,  the  young  man  felt  himself  drift- 
ing into  the  grip  of  the  rosy  God.  He  murmured,  "I 
can't  give  her  up.  I  will  not,  It  is  Kismet !  '  The  honey 
dew  has  been  dropped  upon  mine  eyes.'     His  dainty  work! 

Cupid, 

"  The  God  of  Love,  and,  Benedicite, 
How  mighty  and  how  great  a  lord  is  he!" 

A  sudden  interruption  caused  the  adjournment  of  the 
Admiralty  Court,  sine  die.  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon  ap- 
peared upon  the  deck,  "  a  daughter  of  the  gods,  divinely 
tall,  and  most  divinely  fair."  Jack,  the  prudent,  at  a 
glimpse  of  her  wind-blown  golden  hair,  as  he  saw  the  will- 
ing breezes  take  her  in  fee,  when  his  eyes  rested  upon  her 
glowing  face,  and  the  winds  swept  her  robe  into  gracefully 
clinging  folds,  abandoned  entirely  the  judicial  view  of  the 
case;  for,  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  must  have  had  in  his 
poetic  eye  the  vision  of  a  pretty  woman,  the  beloved  of  the 
elements,  the  sister  of  the  nodding  roses,  a  graceful  god- 
dess striding  on  the  deck,  when  he  daintily  hymned : 

"  Whatever  stirs  this  mortal  frame, 
All  are  but  ministers  of  love, 
And  feed  his  sacred  flame." 

Your  roguish  Dan  Cupid  is  even  yet,  a  great  lover  of 
high  winds  and  rainy  days,  "when  the  rain  it  raineth 
every  day." 

Jack,  the  deceitful,  rather  over-vaunted  his  knowledge 
of  the  musical  circles  of  Paris,  on  this  very  afternoon. 
When  the  stars  slowly  swung  past  them  that  night,  Mr. 
John  Wayne  Otis  treasured  the  banker's  address    of   the 


FROM  SHORE  TO  SHORE.  283 

young  lady  in  Paris,  "and,  had  formally  tendered  his  serv- 
ices," having  a  vague  idea  too,  of  developing  his  own  voice! 
The  "sacred  flame"  was  so  plenteously  fed,  that  the  Bos- 
tonian's  brow  was  gloomy  indeed,  as  he  glowered  at  Mr. 
Frederick  Wyman,  in  triumph  aiding  the  ladies  at  the 
Liverpool  landing  float  in  the  "  usual  formalities." 

The  night  before  their  arrival  Otis  had  taken  counsel  of 
his  heart.  With  a  singular  originality  of  mind  he  reflected 
that  his  own  personal  status  and  history  was  nebulous 
enough  to  the  woman,  whose  eyes  now  bade  him  hope,  for 
it  was  the  summer-time  of  life  to  them  both,  and,  they 
strayed  away  on  different  paths,  that  last  night,  in  the 
Irish  sea,  to  secretly  meet  in  Dreamland.  ' '  I  would  only  be 
a  mad  fool  to  thrust  myself  upon  her,  now,"  the  anxious 
Bostonian  was  forced  to  decide.  "  But,  I  will  watch  over 
her.  I  will  be  near  her  in  the  strange  land  of  her  new 
residence.  Behind  the  cloud  of  her  prudence,  there  is  no  dark 
hidden  story  of  the  past.  This  is  the  one  fair  maid,  of  all 
the  world  for  me,"  he  swore,  in  his  loving  heart  of  hearts; 
"and,  she  shall  know  yet,  though  parted,  that  my  heart 
goes  out  to  her,  God  bless  her!  in  her  lonely  fight  for 
fame,  and  I  may  yet  be  all  in  all  to  her,  for,  fame  alone 
never  tilled  the  heart  of  any  loving  woman!  "  Still,  he  saw 
certain  things,  only  as  through  a  glass  darkly,  and  his 
note  book  bore  these  lines,  expressive  of  the  state  of  a 
mind,  vowed  solemnly  once  to  architectural  research,  when 
he  saw  her  disappear  from  his  sight  at  Liverpool,  for  they 
went  different  ways : 

LIKE  SHIPS  THAT  PASS. 

Your  soul,  its  fluttering  signal  showed, 
My  darling,  in  those  dreaming  eyes; 

Whose  fringing  lashes  could  not  hide 
The  depths  of  Love's  sweet  Paradise. 

Far  from  the  world,  you  came  to  me, 
A  sea-born  vision,  memory's  glass, 


284  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

Will  bring  you  back,  though  swept  away, 
Like  ships  that  pass,  like  ships  that  pass. 

I  may  not  read  the  blushes,  sweet, 

Which  mantled  on  your  glowing  cheek; 
I  dare  not  linger  at  your  side, 

'Twere  vain  to  hope,  'twere  mad  to  speak. 
Gray  distance  hides  you  now,  afar, 

My  griefs,  a  love-racked  heart  harass; 
Good-bye;  hope's  ensign  nutters  down, 

Like  ships  that  pass,  like  ships  that  pass. 

Perchance  some  favoring  gale  of  life, 

On  the  uncertain,  heaving  sea 
Of  Fate,  may  blow  from  happier  shores, 

And,  waft  you,  dearestf  back  to  me. 
Your  head  at  rest  upon  my  breast, 

Your  eyes,  twin  guiding  stars,  alas! 
'Tis  vain  to  dream;  their  light  is  lost, 

Like  ships  that  pass,  like  ships  that  pass. 

A  raw,  sloppy  day  in  London  welcomed  the  arrival  of 
the  travelers  by  the  Britannic.  Brave,  defiant  Milly 
Hammond  finally  extracted  a  frozen  smile  of  recognition 
and  adieu,  at  the  station,  from  Mrs.  Pauline  Buford.  < <  Ah! 
I  will  pay  you  off  yet,"  the  fair  condottieri  muttered,  for 
the  vociferous  General  Hiram  had  found  time  enough  to 
secretly  squeeze  her  hand,  and  then  murmur: 

"  Don't  forget,  it  only  rests  with  you,  to  keep  Wyman 
safely  out  of  the  way." 

She  demurely  whispered :  "  Trust  me.     I'll  fix  all  that." 

He  roared  out  a  genial  horse  laugh,  as  he  debouched  to- 
ward the  Langham,  with  his   tribe. 

Miss  Minnie  Buford  enjoyed  a  most  vicious  pleasure  in 
tying  up  some  of  Frederick  Wyman's  future  days,  with  a 
galling  half -confidence,  half-promise,  murmured  in  words 
which,  while  insinuating  her  ownership  of  the  candidate 
for  Nob  Hill  honors,  still  left  her  free. 


FROM    SHORE    TO    SHORE.  2  85 

"  And  now,  for  Paris!"  gaily  cried  Wyman,  who  had 
privately  arranged  with  the  imposing  Buford  for  a  speedy 
return,  after  the  financial  launching  and  the  subsequent 
good  time. 

In  the  wilds  of  the  Charing  Cross  Hotel,  Mrs.  Milly 
Hammond  severely  matronized  Gladys  Lyndon,  while 
Wyman,  piloted  by  the  accomplished  Morani,  visited  the 
city  in  search  of  the  hard  golden  portraiture  (slightly 
flattered),  of  the  estimable  Queen  Victoria. 

Gladys  Lyndon,  vaguely  reminded  of  the  loss  of  Otis, 
was  depressed  and  nervous,  as  she  gazed  out  on  the  smoky 
sky.  The  cheerless  Thames,  the  unfamiliar  surroundings, 
reminded  her  of  the  coming  "  fight  to  the  finish  "  against 
both  fate  and  obscurity. 

"  I  hope  that  I  shall  see  him  again  soon,"  she  murmured, 
with  a  sudden  flood  of  tears,  as  she  turned  away  from  the 
window  pane,  sheeted  with  a  driving  rain.  It  would  have 
made  Jack  Otis'  heart  leap  up  in  joy,  on  his  lonely  way, 
had  he  known  the  personal  pronoun  was  relative  to  him, 
alone,  of  all  the  world. 

A  strangely  startled  man  was  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman, 
jolting  along  to  the  bank,  when  Morani  slyly  whispered: 
' '  I  saw  that  man  Hooper,  the  runaway  broker,  on  the 
street  when  I  went  out,  but,  lost  him  in  the  crowd.  I  tried 
to  follow  him." 

"  Your  fortune  is  made  if  you  can  find  that  man,  when 
we  come  back,"  cried  Wyman. 

And,  the  valet  smiled,  "  Then,  I'll  run  him  down  for 
you." 

But,  Wyman  was  lost  in  a  new  fear. 


286  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 


BOOK  III. 

Trying  the  Title. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Fresh  Fields  and  Pastures  New. 

"  How  shall  we  manage  to  slip  away  from  Gladys,  for 
the  fortnight  before  you  go  over  to  London?  "  merrily 
queried  Mrs.  Milly  Hammond,  as  she  sat  in  the  very  pret- 
tiest morning  costume,  at  breakfast,  with  Mr.  Frederick 
Wyman  a  few  days  later  at  the  Grand  Hotel  in  Paris.  It 
was  only  a  brief  time  after  their  arrival,  but  Miss  Lyndon 
was  already  absent,  making  a  final  selection  of  her ' '  pension, " 
and  definitely  arranging  the  details  of  her  finishing  musical 
course  with  the  greatest  of  living  vocal  masters.  Wyman 
was  now  contented  and  happy,  for  the  girl  seemed  here  to 
realize  to  the  full  the  great  bond  of  obligation  between 
them,  and  the  as  yet,  unpaid  debt  of  his  great  generosity. 
"  She  will  come  around  all  right  soon.  A  little  loneliness 
will  melt  her,"  thought  Wyman,  twisting  his  mustache 
with  quite  the  air  of  a  "  flaneur. " 

"  Bless  your  simple  soul,"  answered  the  sybarite  miner, 
to  the  anxious  Milly,  "  nothing  is  easier.  Gladys  is 
music  mad,  and,  her  eyes  are  turned  in  on  herself.     Now, 


FRESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTURES    NEW.  287 

I  have  been  down  at  the  American  Exchange.  I  have 
found  a  very  snug  nest  out  at  St.  Cloud.  All  that  you 
must  do,  is  to  receive  a  sudden  telegram  that  one  of  your 
most  intimate  San  Francisco  friends  is  very  ill  at  Neuilly, 
and,  you  must  go  and  stay  a  few  days  with  her.  Once  out 
there,  you  are  all  right.  I  will  drop  in  and  see  our  bud- 
ding prima  donna  myself,  every  clay  or  so,  and,  as  I  will 
have  received  letters  from  you,  I  will  bring  her  all  the 
news." 

"Good!  Good,"  cried  the  fair  flower  of  Van  Ness 
avenue,  as  she  blew  him  a  kiss  over  the  crystal  rim  of  her 
wineglass.  "  She  goes  to  her  pension  to-night,  and  we 
can  go  to  Saint  Cloud  then;  but,"  the  fair  frolic- 
some dame  continued,  * '  suppose  we  should  meet  her  in 
the  street?  "     A  sudden  alarm  shook  the  lady's  nerve. 

"All  that  you  will  want  is  a  veil  handy  for  our  town 
excursions,"  lightly  answered  Wyman.  "  Besides,"  he 
gaily  cried,  as  he  leaned  towards  her,  with  glowing  eyes, 
"  I  am  tired  of  all  this  make-believe  life.  You  are  not 
likely  to  ever  meet  her  where  I  will  take  you.  Milly 
you  shall  now  see  Paris,  in  style,"  he  ardently  cried, — 
"  fresh  fields  and  pastures  new!  Now,  I  can  give  you 
just  two  weeks,  and  it  is  for  you,  little  woman,  to  set  the 
place,  for,  I  have  really  some  important  business  in  Lon- 
don." 

His  brow  clouded  as  he  thought  of  the  forger  Hooper's 
presence  in  London.  "  The  one  man  on  earth  I  have  a  just 
cause  to  fear,  and,  I  suppose  he  has  that  she-devil  still  with 
him.  He  must  be  trying  some  clever  new  dodge,  for,  if 
recognized,  he  might  be  called  on  from  Scotland  Yard; 
and,  there  are  always  plenty  of  San  Francisco  men  in  Lon- 
don who  might  recognize  him."  The  capitalist  strolled 
out  of  the  breakfast-room,  and  entering  his  apartment,  rang 
for  Morani.  A  few  whispered  directions  caused  that 
smart  son  of  Belial  to  grin  in  a  furtive  manner. 


288  MISS   DEVEREIXX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

"  All  right,  sir!  "  he  smiled,  but,  I  must  know  the  name 
to  use  for  the  luggage,  you  know."  Wyraan    laughed. 

11  Clean  off  all  the  old  marks  on  our  traps,  both  hers 
and  mine."  He  indicated  the  breakfast-room,  where  a 
thrilling  voice  was  caroling  away  in  glee.  The  Burgundy 
was  excellent.  "  By  the  way,  Tony,"  questioned  the 
master,    "  how  was  this  fellow  Hooper  got  up?" 

"Oh!  quite  the  city  gent,  sir;  English  business  style, 
smooth  shaven,  London  togs,  sir;  looked  quite  at  home 
and  was  taking  it  very  easy.  He  didn't  look  afraid,  but 
like  a  regular  business  man." 

1 « Ah!  "  mused  Wyman,  as  he  rejoined  Milly  Hammond, 
"I  suppose  that  Vinnie  and  Hooper  are  going  in  now,  too, 
'for  fresh  fields  and  pastures  new,'  with  a  safe  change  of 
names  also."  And,  he  laughed  as  he  kissed  Milly's  wine- 
burdened  eyelids. 

"Who  are  we  to  be,  anyway?  that  is,  at  St.  Cloud. 
What  is  our  royal  name?  "  His  velvet-eyed  companion 
blushed,  and  then  smiled  demurely. 

"Fred,"  she  said  as  she  readjusted  the  flowers  in  her 
corsage,  "let  it  be  'Mr.  and  Mrs.  Burnham.'  We  will 
yet,  need  to  use  the  whole  alphabet,  I  am  sure." 

"  All  right!  "  rejoined  her  friend  in  need.  "I'll  be  bap- 
tized so,  through  Morani.  I'll  send  him  now  over  with 
the  traps.  We  start,  after  Gladys  goes  to  her  ' '  musical 
tread  mill." 

That  night,  in  the  wee  sma'  hours,  as  "  Mrs.  Burnham" 
looked  out  on  a  pretty  fragrant  bower  at  St.  Cloud,  after 
an  exciting  evening  wherein  the  ' '  elephant "  was  slyly 
peeped  at,  she  smiled  and  said: 

"  Fred,  this  is  life  itself,  and,  you  are  a  darling  boy;" 
whereat,  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  smiled  in  the  modest 
consciousness  of  well  doing,  and  gently  answered: 

"  I  think  I,  too, shall  like  Paris."  He  was  now  without  a 


FRESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTURES    NEW.  2S9 

single  care  in  the  world.  "  That  fellow  Strong,"  he  mur- 
mured, "is  left,  left  out  in  the  cold;  left  *  by  a  large 
majority! '  "     And,  he  was  wise  in  his  own  conceit. 

It  was  a  most  peculiar  irony  of  fate  which  had  torn 
Counselor  Waldo  Strong  away  from  an  increasing  legal 
business  in  San  Francisco,  to  make  some  quiet  private  re- 
searches in  Virginia  City,  on  the  subject  of  the  Hooper 
forgeries.  There  were  some  sturdy  English  directors 
away  in  London  who  were  greatly  interested  in  the  bank 
which  had  been  principally  victimized.  The  San  Fran- 
cisco manager,  too,  nursed  a  vain  hope  of  recouping  some 
of  the  heavy  losses  by  future  quiet  researches  into  the 
old  affairs  of  Hooper,  Bowen  &  Co.  in  the  State  of  Nevada. 

Waldo  Strong,  who  had  thrown  himself  back  into  his 
professional  work  with  a  mad  desire  to  win  his  way  once 
more  to  wealth,  to  where  he  might  yet  offer  fortune  and  a 
home  to  the  vanished  singer,  accepted  the  representa- 
tion of  the  powerful  bank  in  this  legal  quest  ' '  I  may 
find  out  here  some  clue  to  this  cold-hearted  scoundrel 
Wyman's  dark  deeds  up  there,"  he  muttered,  and  so  forth 
he  sallied,  too,  to  graze  "in  fresh  fields  and  pastures  new." 
His  heart  was  very  sore  within  him,  for  he  had  long  un- 
availingly  tried  to  trace  the  pathway  of  the  fair  child  of 
promise,  whom  he  worshiped  with  all  the  hidden  ardor  of 
a  fiery  heart,  burning  under  his  cold  exterior.  Gladys  Lyn- 
don had  come  into  his  life  "  as  comes  the  summer  wind," 
and  now,  there  was  only  darkness  in  his  soul ! 

There  were  new  tenants  in  the  Van  Ness  avenue  man- 
sion, and  the  cautious  agent  could  only  give  him  a  bank- 
er's address  in  New  York  City,  for  the  forwarding  of 
letters.  "I  presume  Mrs.  Hammond  will  be  traveling  in 
the  East  yet  for  some  time,  as  the  house  is  let  for  a  year. 
That,  is  all  that  I  know.  Her  husband,  — "  and  then,  both 
men  joined  in  Strong's  involuntary  laugh. 


290  MISS    DEVEREUX    OP    THE    MARIQUITA. 

On  the  first  night,  when  Mr.  Strong  had  obtained  per- 
mission to  begin  a  search  of  the  Virginia  City  mining 
records,  out  of  hours,  his  mind  wandered  far  away  in 
search  of  the  fair  goddess  with  the  shining  eyes.  He  little 
knew  that  she,  herself,  in  the  cold,  cheerless  sham  comfort 
of  a  Parisian  pension,  looked  out  at  the  moon  shining 
down  there  in  alien  skies.  She  was  herself  wandering  "in 
fresh  fields  and  pastures  new,"  and,  had  been  most  easily 
restrained,  by  her  promise  to  the  adroit  Mrs.  Hammond, 
not  to  write  to  California  at  present.  ' '  It  would  never 
do,  my  darling,"  said  the  very  circumspect  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond, ' '  that  we  should  be  generally  known  to  have  voy- 
aged, on  the  same  steamer  with  Mr.  Wyman!  People 
are  so  uncharitable,"  and,  the  good,  circumspect  lady 
sighed. 

Blessed  be  ignorance!  Blessed  be  the  veil  drawn  over 
current  events,  by  time  and  distance!  Blessed  be  the 
friendly  shades  which  hide  from  so  many  aching  and 
throbbing  hearts, that  which  it  were  a  death-knell  to  hear,  a 
last  crushing  misery  to  know!  There  are  griefs  which  thus, 
in  mercy,  are  delayed,  to  minimize  the  bitter  pangs  which 
tear,  the  rending  agonies  which  crush  the  soul  forever! 
Hope  still  shows  its  shining  star  to  the  absent  one,  where 
often,  knowledge  would  bow  the  proud  head,  and  bring 
the  bitterest  tears  to  loving  eyes.  So,  blessed  be  the  kindly 
demon,  who  hides  that  which  is  known,  often  alas!  too 
soon,  at  the  best — awful  certainty! 

Changed  hearts,  wayward  fortunes,  impending  strokes 
of  fate,  these  "days  of  grace,"  this  kind  nepenthe  of  lov- 
ing doubt,  of  hoping  against  hope,  are  blessed  easements 
in  this  weary  world.  So,  the  toiling,  stern-hearted  law- 
yer knew  not  that  the  woman  he  loved  leaned  out  from 
the  casement  that  night,  and  thought  of  a  lover,  in  a  sudden 
flash  of  self-knowledge,  but,  only  of  the  absent  Jack  Otis. 


FRESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTURES    NEW.  291 

Paris  was  so  lonely  to  the  ardent  girl!  The  mincing 
formalities,  the  cold  curiosity,  the  mechanical  environment 
of  the  musical  coterie  she  had  drifted  into  chilled  her.  She 
hungered  this  night,  for  the  clasp  of  Jack  Otis'  hand,  for  his 
clear  ringing  manly  voice,  the  frank  glance  of  his  honest  eyes, 
and  alone,  an  ardent  being  touched  with  genius,  "but  yet 
a  woman,"  a  very  woman,  she  sought  her  pillow  in  a  flood 
of  sudden  tears.  When  ever  did  one  loving  soul  suffice 
itself?  "I  wonder  if  I  shall  see  him  soon  again?"  she 
murmured,  taking  up  the  tender  refrain  of  the  loved  and 
longing,  and  her  gentle  heart  was  not  comforted,  but  yet, 
far  out  on  the  broken  moon-lit  waters  of  the  broken  Chan- 
nel, John  Wayne  Otis  of  Boston,  was  conscious  of  a  burn- 
ing desire  to  hasten  on  the  steamer,  driving  merrily 
ahead.  "I  am  a  fool,"  he  fretted.  "I  suppose  that  she 
has  half  forgotten  my  face,  but  I'll  very  soon  find  out,"  he 
vigorously  and  cheerfully  concluded. 

Two  weeks  after  the  beginning  of  the  little  '  <  stolen  nest " 
lark  at  Saint  Cloud,  Mrs.  Hilly  Hammond  sat  in  the  rose- 
bowered  garden  of  the  cottage,  which  had  gaily  sheltered 
"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Burnham."  The  lines  in  the  lady's  pretty 
face  were  of  the  most  sober  cast  of  thought.  She  gazed 
furtively  at  Morani,  who  was  deftly  arranging  their  joint 
movables  and  assorting  them  for  a  special  individual  de- 
livery; for,  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  had  driven  over  to 
Neuilly  to  post  a  decoy  letter,  informing  Miss  Gladys 
Lyndon  of  the  convalescence  of  Milly's  sick  friend. 
Screening  herself  in  an  arbor,  the  lonely  chatelaine  was 
intently  studying  a  brief  letter  of  her  own,  with  the  Lon- 
don post-mark. 

"  It  will  be  such  a  jolly  lark,"  she  smiled,  "  but,  I  fear  I 
can  only  have  half  glimpses  of  London.  Still,  Buford  is  a 
solid  sheet-anchor,"  she  laughed  lightly  at  her  intending 
deception;   *•  I  will  do  as  he  Avishes."     Pretty  traitress! 


292  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

In  good  truth,  Frederick  Wyman  had  well  exhausted 
the  novelty  of  his  hide-and-seek  exploit.  That  very 
morning,  he  had  received  an  imperative  letter  from  the 
burly  General  Buford.  The  doughty,  bloodless  warrior 
wrote  forcibly,  if  without  Chesterfieldian  elegance.  '  <  Tele- 
graph me  at  the  Langham,when  you  arrive.  I'll  wait  for 
you  there.  I  have  now  seen  all  my  financial  people  here, 
and  now's  your  time,  to  get  in  with  them  and,  get  solid. 
I'll  give  you  a  rattling  good  send-off.  My  own  people 
want  to  get  over  to  Paris,  and,  after  1  have  fixed  you  up, 
we  can  go  back  there  together,  and  have  that  little  '  racket. ' 
My  ladies  will  be  very  busy  a  month  with  their  shopping. 
That's  our  golden  time,  my  boy." 

Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  was  returning  from  sending  a 
telegram,  announcing  his  departure  for  London  on  the 
night  train,  when  he  accidentally  stumbled  over  John 
"Wayne  Otis,  of  Boston.  It  was  not  singular  that  the  two 
young  men  flashed  glances  of  veiled,  hostile  inquiry, 
pointed  mutely  at  each  other.  But,  a  few  words  of  com- 
mon place  decided  Otis  to  probe  the  situation  a  little  as  to 
the  beautiful  singer. 

"Have  you  seen  Miss  Lyfidon  since  her  arrival?  Do 
you  know  her  present  address?  "  the  Bostonian  casually 
demanded;  and,  Wyman,  with  a  prompt  politeness,  too 
ready  for  the  truth,  professed  his  entire  ignorance. 

"I  leave  myself  for  London  to-night,  and  then,  may  re- 
turn to  California,"  said  the  miner,  with  half -veiled  eyes. 

"  And,  Mrs. — Mrs.  Hammond,  her  friend,  do  you  hap- 
pen to  know  where  she  is?"  The  mention  of  that  name, 
reminded  the  deceitful  Wyman  that  he  must  quickly  pre- 
pare his  bird  of  passage  for  her  ostensible  return  to  Paris. 
With  a  murmur  of  polite  negation,  Wyman  bowed  and 
then  passed  on. 

"  I  do   not  propose  to  have  that  Yankee  fool  pick  up 


FEESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTUEES    NEW.  293 

either  of  these  two  ladies.  I  will  tell  Milly  some  cock- 
and-bull  story  about  my  being  followed,  and,  she  can  stay 
here  and  hover  near  Gladys  in  my  absence.  I  can  surely 
trust  her,  and  she  will  post  me  if  this  '  <  Yankee  prince  " 
looms  up  near  Gladys,  on  the  musical  horizon." 

Frederick  Wyman  was  in  a  very  happy  mood,  as  he 
raced  back  to  St.  Cloud.  His  reports  from  Brown,  the 
cashier,  Wilder,  and  the  main  office  of  the  "Lone  Star," 
told  him  that  all  was  well.  "  If  I  can  now  only  <  work 
the  London  market '  rightly,  I  can  unload  on  these  fat- 
witted  Englishmen,  and  yet,  have  a  practical  control.  The 
General  can  help  me.  I  wonder  what  terms  he  would 
exact.  There  is  a  loose  million  dollars  in  the  deal  if  it  is 
well  swung."  In  some  queer  premonitory  way,  Wyman 
felt  that  these  < '  Lone  Star "  maneuvers  were  doomed  to 
include  a  final  procession  under  the  wedding  bell  of 
orchids,  with  Miss  Minnie  Buford  as  his  bride.  "By 
Heaven!  I  might  do  worse.  The  connection  is  a  right 
royal  one  for  California,"  and  the  crafty  Wyman  mused 
with  a  deliberately-planned  rapid  scheme,  in  which  he 
shone  out  as  the  Faust,  and,  lonely  Gladys  Lyndon  was 
cast  as  Marguerite! 

"I  have  it,"  he  smiled.  "A  long  engagement  with 
Minnie,  say  a  year.  Before  then,  Buford  must  be  made  to 
do  yeoman's  work  for  me  here.  I  can  so  be  free  to  see 
Gladys  at  will.  The  winter  will  bring  to  her  the  lonely 
hours,  and  I'll  send  Milly  Hammond  home  in  the  spring. 
Then  the  coast  is  clear.  Yes!  That's  my  plan,"  he 
smiled  wickedly.     The  fruit  was  near  his  hand! 

As  Wyman  enjoyed  his  cigar,  gazing  at  the  world's 
circus  of  pleasure  in  the  crowded  Bois,  the  woman  "  he 
could  trust "  was  reading  for  the  first  time  the  letter 
she  had  received  at  St.  Cloud;  for  General  Buford 
knew  the  address  of  Mrs.   Burnham,  and  they  had  their 


294  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

little  "private  game"  of  larks,  such  larks!  "I  will 
telegraph  you  to  your  bankers'  care  the  moment  Wyman 
actually  arrives.  Then,  come  on  to  London,  quietly,  at 
once,  alone.  The  address  which  I  enclose  will  be  your 
home.  I  have  a  party  there  in  charge  who  will  expect 
you.  I  will  come  there  to  you  at  once.  Simply  telegraph 
to  me  at  my  bankers  when  you  will  arrive  in  London. 
The  people  at  the  house  will  immediately  notify  me. 
You  must,  however,  be  my  close  prisoner  for  this  '  peep 
at  London '  trip.  You  will  have  some  one,  though,  to 
conduct  you  where  we  cannot  be  with  each  other,  and  thus 
spare  you  lonely  hours." 

The  locality,  "  St.  John's  Wood,"  was  for  the  first  time 
made  known  to  the  daring  western  traveler  by  the  address 
slip.  "  It  is  such  a  lark,"  she  smiled,  "and  Fred,  such  a 
joke  if  he  should  find  out!"  She  smiled  grimly.  "  No, 
he  will  not,  for  the  General  has  far  more  to  lose  than  I 
have — that  tiger-cat  wife,  but,  I'll  lead  her  a  dance." 
Milly's  velvet  eyes  hardened. 

When  the  rosy  morning  tinted  the  flowery  close  of  St. 
Cloud,  Mrs.  Hammond  had  deftly  rejoined  the  girl  whose 
days  of  incessant  professional  work  had  begun.  When 
Wyman,  returning  ostensibly  from  Neuilly,  had  with  a 
forced  solicitude,  tenderly  bade  her  a  passionate  adieu  at 
the  station  restaurant,  where  they  dined  together  before  he 
departed  for  London,  he  felt  for  the  first  time,  the  slight 
galling  of  the  rosy  chain. 

"  You  will  not  be  lonely  without  me,  Milly,"  he  said, 
"  for  you  have  Gladys  here  to  watch  over.  Don't  fail  to 
telegraph  to  me  if  you  need  anything,  and  throw  that  fel- 
low Otis  off  the  track,  if  you  meet  him  by  any  chance." 
As  Mr.  Wyman  uncoiled  himself  from  Milly's  clinging 
arms,  and  the  train  drew  out,  the  gay  dissembler  laughed, 
"What  a  lark!  "  as  she  drove  back  to  her  hotel.  "  What 
a  lark  I  will  have!" 


FRESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTURES    NEW.  295 

Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  felt  that  he  had  now  entered 
upon  a  golden  tide  of  good  fortune,  as  he  discussed  his 
plans,  with  the  clear-headed  General  in  a  private  room  at 
the  "  Langham  "  the  next  evening.  He  was  most  charm- 
ingly located  under  the  social  wing  of  his  new  friend.  He 
had  long  and  deeply  thought  of  the  ugly  problem  of  James 
Walter  Hooper,  the  one  dangerous  wolf  on  his  blind  trail. 
"He  would  not  dare  to  face  me  here,  but,  he  might  blab, 
in  his  cups,  something  to  hurt  me  later." 

So  a  Parisian  friend  of  the  expectant  Morani  was  now 
temporarily  installed  as  Wyman' s  valet.  "What's  your 
plan,  Tony?"  the  captalist  had  demanded,  as  he  had  con- 
ferred while  crossing  the  Channel  with  his  alert  man. 

"I  am  going  to  earn  my  reward  money,"  the  servitor 
smiled.  "  It's  not  so  very  hard,  I  hope,  but,  you  must  give 
me  a  free  hand  and  release  me  for  every  moment  of  your 
stay." 

"Do  all  you  will,  spend  all  the  money  you  want,  only 
find  him!"  cried  the  master.  "Now,  what's  your  final 
plan? £  Tony  scratched  his  head  in  deep  thought. 

"This  fellow,  you  see,  looked  as  if  he  was  got  up 
<  strictly  for  business,'  when  I  saw  him.  He  was  very  in- 
tent, eager,  and,  headed  down  toward  the  city.  He  was 
well  '  brushed  up '  to  a  London  city  air.  Now,  sir,  he 
would  not  dare  to  shoAV  himself  in  any  society.  He  would 
not  be  able  to  hang  around  the  hotels  and  exchanges,  too 
many  Californians  always  there.  He  never  was  a  sport, 
and  he  could  only  use  his  clerky  talents  in  some  new 
scheme  here.  I  have  an  idea  that  if  I  watch  Temple  Bar 
from  nine  till  five  for  a  whole  business  week,  he  will 
surely  fall  under  my  eye.  He  does  something  in  the  city. 
It's  the  only  road  in." 

"By  Heavens!  you  have  it,"  cried  Wyman,  who  had 
just   studied  up   his   guide  books  and   been    coached  by 


296  MISS    DEVEREITX    OF    THE    MARTQUITA. 

Morani  for  his  London  outings.  "Follow  him,  follow 
him  to  Constantinople,  but,  don't  lose  him  from  sight. 
Here's  a  hundred  pounds.  Telegraph  me  at  the  « Langham. ' 
You  can  go  up,  get  your  new  man  in  trim  and  arrange  my 
affairs.  Then,  sir,  you  are  only  a  detective,  until  you 
succeed  or  I  get  tired." 

"I'll  catch  him.  That  fellow  will  have  something  to  do 
around  the  banks,  and  with  money.  He'll  try  and  stay 
here  in  London,  for  you  tell  me  he  speaks  no  foreign 
languages.  He  would  be  lost  on  the  Continent.  His  talents 
would  be  lost  there." 

Wyman  himself  would  have  lost  his  complacency,  if  he 
could  have  seen  the  overjoyed  "pilgrim  from  Boston"  now 
seated  at  the  side  of  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon  in  Paris  on  this 
very  evening.  Mr.  Otis  had  discovered  a  pressing  neces- 
sity for  Miss  Lyndon,  indulging  in  out-door  walks,  "at 
reasonable  intervals,"  and,  he  had  already  promised  to 
point  out  to  her  the  salient  "  architectural "  features  of 
Paris!  To  further  disconcert  the  smiling  schemer,  Mrs. 
Hammond  was  even  then,  out  of  Paris,  a  new  Cleopatra 
speeding  over  on  her  voyage  to  meet  a  most  prosaic  An- 
tony, in  the  person  of  General  Hiram  Buford,  who  had 
promptly  telegraphed  to  her  the  fact  of  her  lover's  arrival. 

While  Mr.  Wyman  had  discovered  the  meaning  of  the 
proverb  "Toujours  perdrix,"  still,  he  might  have  decided 
not  to  implicitly  trust  the  two  people  now  nearest  to  him, 
had  his  youthful  vanity  been  tried  by  a  knowledge  of  the 
graceful  Milly's  artful  escapade.  Had  he  known!  Had  he 
known!  He  would  have  been  far  more  circumspect,  for 
General  Buford  proceeded  at  once  to  a  frank  statement  of 
his  proposed  attitude  towards  the  k'  Lone  Star"  operation. 

' '  Of  course,  you  are  aware  I  can  place  you  at  once  where 
a  year  of  your  own  unaided  efforts  or  any  amount  of 
social  posturing  would  not.     Our   own   companions,  our 


FRESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTURES    NEW.  297 

bankers,  our  connections  here,  are  all  powerful!  If  you 
thus  successfully  approach  the  great  London  promoters, 
the  men  who  float  all  the  vast  enterprises  here,  you  must 
let  me  in  on  the  *  ground  floor. '  I  must  be  liberally 
considered.  I  expect  my  own  name  to  weigh  in  this  as 
far  as  the  British  capital,  or  your  mine. 

"  But,  you  are  new  to  London.  You  wish  to  look  about 
a  bit;  to  see  the  general  features.  I  have  many  private 
things  to  attend  to.  You  can  now  think  this  over.  I  will 
go  down  to  the  city  a  couple  of  hours  every  day  with  you, 
and  gradually  bring  you  into  the  upper  money  circles. 
In  the  evenings,  I  will  have  to  leave  you  to  Mrs.  Buford 
and  my  daughter.  You  will  naturally  wish  to  see  the 
general  amusements,  and  so,  get  a  bit  acclimated.  It  will 
leave  me  my  afternoons  and  evenings,  for  my  'own  work,' 
of  which  I  have  a  vast  deal  before  me! " 

Wyman  bowed  assent  as  the  General  blushed  one  shade, 
in  a  sudden  realization  that  "St.  John's  Wood,"  and  the 
reception  of  the  modernized  "  Cleopatra "  was  his  most 
exigent  "piece  of  business  "  now  "pressing  on  his  over- 
burdened mind. "  ' '  The  women  will  nail  him  down  strictly 
to  escort  duty,"  mused  Buford,  "but,  we  had  better  circu- 
late cautiously,  Milly  and  I,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Thames." 

The  days  passed  by  in  a  realization  of  the  drift  of 
several  strange  undercurrents  in  the  life  of  the  scattered 
voyagers  by  the  Britannic.  A  pleased  twinkle  in  the  eyes 
of  General  Buford  indicated  a  great  internal  mental  satis- 
faction, and  his  deference  to  and  liberality  with  his  watch- 
ful spouse,  enchanted  that  proud  lady.  Mr.  Wyman  was 
daily  weighing  in  the  scales  of  his  mental  balances  the 
possibilities  and  advisability  of  delivering  himself  up,  as  a 
pledged  captive  "  to  her  own  bow  and  spear,"  to  the  alert, 
emerald-eyed  Miss  Minnie. 


298  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

The  very  j oiliest  little  episodes  of  all  the  night  life  in 
shady  St.  John's  Wood  were  the  enlivening  features  of 
Mrs.  Hammond's  "  seclusion,"  and,  the  lynx-eyed  Morani 
gazed  with  an  ill-concealed  impatence  daily  on  the  thou- 
sands streaming  under  Temple  Bar.  "Here,  I  must,  and 
will,  hook  my  queer  fish,  right  here,"  the  wearied  watcher 
swore  in  his  heart. 

There  were  now  few  idle  moments  for  the  now  efflores- 
cent Californian  schemer  in  these  days.  Busied  in  the  day 
with  General  Buford,  in  worming  his  way  into  the  ranks 
of  the  London  money  ring,  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  at 
night  superintended  the  preparation  of  the  prospectus  of 
the  "Lone  Star  Mining  Company  of  London  (Limited)." 
When  not  dancing  attendance  upon  the  haughty  ladies  of 
the  Buford  family  in  their  vigorous  search  for  new 
pleasures,  Wyman  did  not  have  time  to  miss  General  Bu- 
ford, whose  "affairs  in  St.  John's  Wood,"  now  demanded 
a  great  deal  of  his  valuable  evening  time. 

The  new  rising  international  speculator  indited,  now 
and  then,  a  brief  note,  simple  but  fervent,  to  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond at  Paris.  His  brow  was  radiant  as  he  learned  that 
Miss  Lyndon's  voice  had  been  approved  by  the  great  Paris 
singing  master,  and,  that  the  "tall  perfect  blonde"  was 
feverishly  studying,  her  heart  fired  with  ambition.  Mrs. 
Hammond's  replies  to  his  letters,  neatly  remailed  in  Paris, 
thankfully  acknowledged  all  her  remittances,  and  also  de- 
scribed herself  as  " going "  around  on  little  trips  "with 
a  California  friend,"  and,  "having  a  very  good  time." 
General  Hiram  Buford  guffawed  in  a  secret  glee  over 
these  "artful  dodgers." 

The  literary  corps  who  were  busied  at  the  Langham, 
with  the  formal  preparation  of  the  classic  "prospectus" 
of  the  "  Lone  Star,"  sat  knee  deep  in  maps,  memoranda  and 
exemplars  of  similar  kinds   of  prospectus   word  painting. 


FRESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTURES    NEW.  299 

When  the  list  of  directors,  with  the  proud  roll  of  agents, 
counsel,  depositories,  and  other  needed  adjuncts,  was 
finally  completed,  with  the  fairy-tale  sketch  of  the  future 
"  workings  of  the  mine,"  Wyman  was  almost  led  to  be- 
lieve a  part  of  the  artful  story,  so  deftly  had  the  pen  em- 
broidered the  cold  substratum  of  facts,  with  the  poetic 
flowers  of  financial  bombast.  A  list  of  Members  of 
Parliament,  retired  Admirals  and  Majpr  Generals,  Queen's 
Counsel,  sons  of  Earls,  and  a  sprinkling  of  Baronets,  gave 
a  social  tone  to  the  names  of  the  well-known  bankers  and 
brokers,  whose  long  togas  were  now  stenciled  with  an- 
other company  title.      Vive  la  Humbug ! 

The  active  campaign  was  soon  to  be  left  to  the  great 
inner  circle  of  human  sharks,  for,  Wyman  had  now  finally 
agreed  with  General  Buf  ord  upon  a  large  aliquot  share,  of 
what  was  known  to  him,  as  the  "swag." 

' '  You  see,  my  dear  boy,  I  furnish  you  all  these  'shining 
ones,'  in  a  batch.  You  will  then  have  free  hands,  and 
you  and  I  will  swing  the  mine  out  West  there,  on  our  own 
inside  lines.  In  other  words,  all  we  get  here  out  of  this 
'blooming  British  "public,' is  so  much  clear  gain.  We 
will  ourselves  soak  up  the  real  output  of  the  mine!" 

Wyman  was  lost  in  admiration  of  the  effective  business 
rascality  of  the  keen-eyed  General,  who  was  only  ludicrous 
when  he  swam  clumsily  along,  oiling  the  seas  of  society 
with  his  un wieldly  bulk,  or  else  disported  himself  under 
his  absurd  militia  title,  as  an  occidental  Marlborough. 
When  there  was  anything  tangible  to  steal,  in  sight, 
the  General,  however,  became  keen,  eager,  clear-headed, 
and  a  most  effective  conspirator. 

"All  you  have  to  do  now,  my  dear  Wyman,  is  to  see 
that  the  London  expert  is  properly  handled  out  there!  As 
soon  as  the  '  prospectus  '  goes  out,  we  will  dispatch  him 
West.     From  what  you  tell  me,  Horace  Wilder,   Brown, 


300  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

your  private  secretary,  Hopkins,  and  your  man  at  the  mine, 
will  entertain  him,  and  also,  watch  him  day  and  night. 
Don't  let  any  hostile  outside  influences  prejudice  him.  I 
have  had  him  secretly  ordered  to  confer  with  the  joint 
manager  of  the  Anglo- California  Bank  while  he  is  out 
there.  I  bank  there  myself,  and,  a  word  from  me  would 
smooth  away  any  little  roughness.  You  can  so  write 
Wilder  and  Brown  to  cable  you,  if  all  is  satisfactory. 
Your  title  is  clear  and  without  a  flaw?  "  The  General's 
eyes  were  keen  in  their  questioning.  Wyman  never 
winced. 

' '  Not  a  speck !  not  a  break !  I  believe  that  I  have  the 
clearest  records  of  any  property  on  the  Comstock,"  heart- 
ily rej^lied  Wyman,  ' «  and,  what  is  more,  I  have  a  produc- 
ing mine  to  show  them,  too.  My  mine  is  a  fact,  a  solid 
fact." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  genially  cried  Buford,  as  he  en- 
gulfed a  mammoth  brandy  and  soda,  and  then  prepared  for 
a  flitting  to  join  the  piquant  Milly,  who  now  ruled  him 
lightly,  holding  him  "  by  a  single  hair."  Yet,  that  elastic 
tie  drew  him,  daily,  to  the  bower  where  his  ' '  f ayre  Rosa- 
mond "  nightly  did  greatly  disport  herself,  as  they  planned 
at  leisure  the  management  of  that  little  nest  in  San  Francis- 
co, that  secluded  bower,  which  would  afford  "  the  General" 
"a  retired  place  to  think  things  over,"  and  also,  give  him 
such  selected  company  as  Mrs.  Hammond  might  be  enabled 
to  quietly  gather;  for,  her  little  retreat  was  to  be  a  sort 
of  palace  of  the  Principessa  Negroni,  where  Buford  would 
essay  the  "Maffio  Orsini "  role,  and,  Madame  Hammond, 
for  those  occasions,  would  gather  in  such  local  rosebuds  as 
pleased  the  wayward  fancy  of  the  mighty  man  of  Nob  Hill. 
A  pleasant  bower! 

Buford  turned  back  at  the  door  with  a  thoughtful  brow. 
i '  If  there  were  the  slightest  chance  of  any  delay  or  trouble 


FRESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTURES    NEW.  301 

out  there,  I  would  go  out  myself  with  the  expert  if  I  were 
you;  but  as  you  have  the  title  and  mine  sound,  we  can 
have  our  little  fling  in  Paris  and  wait  results  in  safety. 
We'll  make  Rome  howl !  " 

Wynian's  only  impending  trouble  now  was  the  lurking 
shadow  of  Hooper,  somewhere  buried  in  the  vast 
human  Babel  of  London.  "That  scoundrel  is  sharp! 
Mr.  Jim  the  Penman  is  a  cur  at  heart  I  do  not  think 
that  Vinnie  would  let  him  blackmail  me.  But,  any  anony- 
mous letter,  any  veiled  demand,  any  mean  trick,  might 
cost  me  very  dear  now."  These  gloomy  thoughts  strangely 
haunted  Wyman  as  he  drove  by  daily,  and  saw  the  tireless 
Morani  still  lurkiDg  on  his  lonely  watch   at   Temple  Bar. 

In  their  evening  conferences,  the  cheery  valet  stoutly 
maintained  his  pet  theory.  "  He's  a  shy  bird,  but,  I  will 
finally  get  him.  He  may  watch  for  you,  for  the  American 
Register  and  the  papers  have  bandied  your  name  all 
around  in  connection  with  General  Buford's  family  party; 
but  me,  he  would  despise  and  overlook."  And  so,  Tony 
stoutly  kept  his  watch. 

On  a  visit  to  the  city  a  week  later,  Wyman  was  startled 
one  morning,  to  find  his  detective  gone  from  his  post. 
"  Ah!  he  has  scented  his  game  at  last!  "  Wyman  cried. 
And  it  was  true,  for  on  his  return,  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  after  a  final  conference  with  the  < '  Inner  com- 
mittee," for,  the  great  prospectus  was  now  launched,  the 
valet  was  still  absent.  The  miner's  heart  burned  in  im- 
patience, until  his  dove  should  return  from  the  stormy 
human  sea  with  tidings.  "  I  shall  know  the  whole  truth 
soon,  reflected  Wyman  as  the  face  of  the  missing  forger 
haunted  him,  during  a  dinner,  charmingly  tete-a-tete 
with  the  ladies,  into  whose  inner  heart  havens  he  had  now 
easily  glided,  for  Vinnie  Hinton  and  Mrs.  Hammond 
had  so  adroitly  polished  their  western  diamond,  that 
Wyman  began  to  shine  with  a  certain  luster  of  his  own! 


302  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQTJITA. 

He  was  mistaken  in  the  voice  of  his  eager  anxiety,  for 
it  was  very  late  when  the  tired  Morani  entered  his  master's 
sleeping  room,  and  the  adroit  little  liar  used  the  truth 
very  gingerly,  doling  out  only  a  part  thereof !  He  scented 
much  future  gold.  "I  may  as  well  find  out  now, just  how 
much  I  am  to  get,  when  it  will  materialize,  and  begin  to  plant 
my  nest  eggs  a  bit.  Such  a  lucky  turn  won't  come  every 
day."  The  sly  valet  dreamed  of  a  snug  little  hotel  in 
Paris,  with  some  roguish-eyed  Parisienne  to  play -Madame 
Boniface,  as  his  assistant;  and, he  knew  so  many  nice  girls, 
too! 

That  eventful  morning,  Antonio  Morani  had  needed  all 
his  cool  nerve,  as  loitering  in  a  doorway,  for  the  ten 
thousandth  time  invoking  his  patron  saint,  the  holy 
Anthony,  the  sturdy  form  of  the  fugitive  criminal,  James 
Walter  Hooper,  passed  under  the  old  London  landmark, 
once  a  neat  receptacle  for  hidden  archives,  and  very 
neatly  topped  off  with  dead  traitors'  heads. 

He  held  his  breath  as  he  stood  in  a  doorway,  not  two 
yards  from  his  human  prey.  It  was  the  same  old  San 
Francisco  Hooper,  only  decorous,  and,  seemingly,  an 
average  British  citizen,  in  his  exterior.  The  absence  of  all 
ornament,  the  democratic  derby  hat,  and  even  the  well 
brushed  clothes,  suited  to  an  upper  clerk,  bespoke  the 
ordinary  business  man,  who  would  not  disdain  a  chop  and 
pot  of  beer.  Hooper  stalked  along  and  he  held  his  um- 
brella as  the  average  private  in  the  great  London  work- 
ing army.  But,  he  was  marching  along  with  a  directness 
of  purpose  which  indicated  the  man  of  fixed  habits. 
"You'll  not  give  me  the  slip  this  time,"  murmured  Mr. 
Tony  Morani,  as  he  glided  on  in  the  wake  of  the  penman. 

It  had  been  a  very  painful  ordeal  to  Morani  to  part  with 
his  natty  mustache.  He  had  sacrificed  it  on  the  altar  of 
Duty,  and  so  the  snug  lines  of  his  face  took  on  the  super- 


FRESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTURES    NEW.  303 

natural  gravity  of  an  actor  out  of  employ,  or  a  priest 
temporarily  out  of  canonicals.  Down  Fleet  street,  along 
they  sped,  and  at  last  in  a  little  side  alley  of  High  Hol- 
born,  the  man  whom  he  followed  entered  a  small  office, 
dingy  and  mean  enough  in  its  externals.  The  opening 
door  showed  only  a  glimpse  of  a  little  back  room.  The 
two  windows  allowed  a  plain  desk  and  chair  to  be  seen, 
and  the  modest  sign  "  Compton,  Money  Broker,"  orna- 
mented the  one  door,  on  a  dingy  tin  label.  "Ah!  at  his 
old  trade,"  the  valet  murmured,  as  passing  by  at  intervals 
of  every  fifteen  minutes,  he  satisfied  himself  by  stolen 
glimpses  that  he  had  at  last  located  the  working  den  of 
the  once  brilliant  San  Francisco  broker.  A  stolid-looking 
office  boy  sat  waiting  orders,  or  moving  around  in  answer 
to  his  employer,  who  several  times  appeared  from  the 
inner  room  in  an  "office  coat,"  with  pen  behind  ear. 

Morani  craftily  surveyed  the  vantage  of  the  ground,  and 
was  delighted  to  observe  a  cheap  public  almost  directly 
opposite,  from  whence,  seated  at  a  convenient  table,  he 
could  observe  the  door  of  the  humble  den.  The  greasy 
copy  of  "Bell's  Life,"  a  few  judiciously  timed  pots  of 
beer,  and  a  leisurely  luncheon,  beguiled  some  of  the  wait- 
ing hours.  "  He  is  a  close  bird,"  mused  Morani,  for  he 
noted  the  lad  bearing  a  comfortable  tray  from  an  ambitious 
restaurant  near.      "  But,  I  must  track  him  to  his  home." 

It  was  very  easy  for  Morani  to  waylay  the  office  lad,  on 
his  return  with  the  dishes  an  hour  later. 

"Ah,  right  in,  on  in  there.  Compton?  yes!  In  the 
back  office.     He's  in  there  now." 

The  dull  lad  vouchsafed  no  reply  to  a  casual  query.  The 
valet  kept  his  dreary  watch  up  all  day. 

"  A  la  fin!  "  joyously  cried  Morani,  at  half-past  four, 
when,  to  his  great  relief,  he  saw  Hooper  walk  out  of  the 
office,  a  top-coat  and  umbrella  indicating  his  flitting.    But, 


304  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

instead  of  returning  on  his  morning  path,  the  ex-broker 
walked  most  briskly  down  toward  Blackfriar's  Bridge.  Al- 
most within  sight  of  the  steamer  landing,  with  the  swing 
of  easy  habit,  Hooper  entered  the  hallway  of  a  neat  lodg- 
ing house,  using  a  latch-key. 

"  Now  I'm  in  for  it,"  the  wearied  watcher  growled, 
"  but,  I'll  plant  a  man  on  him  to-morrow.  If  he  lives  here, 
I  will  have  him  traced  at  both  places,  shadowed  softly. 
I'll  have  his  whole  game  in  a  week.  He's  a  fixture 
here." 

While  the  puzzled  Frenchman  studied  various  plans  of 
getting  into  the  lodging  house,  his  last,  being  to  get  a 
garb  and  tray  from  a  neighboring  foreign  restaurant,  and 
then,  knock  at  every  door  in  search  of  an  imaginary  lodger, 
the  street  door  briskly  opened,  and  Solomon  in  all  his 
glory  was  no  more  richly  arrayed  than  the  transcendent 
swell  who  passed  the  astonished  valet  unthinkingly!  It 
was  Hooper,  but  lo!  as  a  man  of  Hyde  Park  and  Pall 
Mall.  From  an  "every  day  young  man,"  he  had  bloomed 
into  a  "  glass  of  fashion."  His  figure  had  even  acquired  a 
certain  military  dignity,  with  his  Albert  frock,  silk  hat 
and  gold  rimmed  eye  glasses.  In  his  stride  and  bearing, 
he  was  entirely  another  man.  A  neat  wrap  on  his  arm,  a 
richly  mounted  umbrella  and  gloves  of  pristine  freshness, 
gave  him  the  air  of  a  clubman.  Tony  stared,  and  yet, 
there  was  no  time  for  thought  as  Morani  raced  after  the 
elastic  stride  of  the  newly  born  D'Orsay,  and  just  brushed 
into  the  line  in  time  to  get  a  ticket  on  the  same  up-river 
steamer. 

"So,  my  man,  it's  a  little  game  of  hide-and-seek  with 
the  world  is  it?"  muttered  Morani,  as  he  adjusted  a  pair 
of  dark-colored  eye-shades,  and  stationed  himself  near  the 
wheel  houses. 

Landing  after  landing  was  passed,  and  it  was  only  when 


FRESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTURES    NEW.  305 

the  boat  neared  Chiswick,  that  the  Frenchman  saw  signs  of 
expectancy  in  the  elegant  apparition  of  the  fugitive  forger. 
In  the  bustle  of  making  the  landing,  Morani  only  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  the  back  of  his  victim.  He  almost  screamed 
as  he  sprang  behind  a  waiting  fly, for  there,in  a  pretty  pony 
phaeton,  behind  a  very  dashing  team,  in  beauty  more  than 
ever  bright,  sat  Vinnie  Hinton,  the  vanished  queen  of 
light  loves!  A  natty  tiger,  perched  behind,  gazed  with 
calm  disdain  at  the  stable  lad  giving  the  spirited  horses 
some  chilled  water.  With  a  good-humored  nod,  Hooper 
tossed  the  lad  a  coin,  and  then  the  resplendent  parasol  of 
the  Pacific  beauty,  lowly  drooping,  shaded  the  fleeing 
lovers. 

As  the  phaeton  leisurely  moved  away,  Morani  sprang 
out  and  seized  the  stable  lad. 

"  Do  you  know  that  gentleman  and  lady?  "  he  queried, 
as  he  held  up  a  florin.  The  youth  extended  his  eager 
hand. 

"Heverybody  knows  the  Hailey  Osgoods.  Bless  you! 
He's  got  an  awful  nice  villa  here.  They're  just  back  from 
Australia,  with  heaps  of  tin.  This  man  will  drive  you  up 
there."  And  thus  in  a  few  moments,  Morani  was  trund- 
ling on  in  pursuit,  keeping  easily  in  fair  range. 

In  fifteen  minutes,  he  had  driven  all  round  the  confines  of 
as  neat  a  villa  as  nestles  on  the  banks  of  the  silver  Thames. 
The  family  party  had  leisurely  entered  their  own  grounds. 
A  convenient  hostelry  enabled  the  artful  Morani,  under 
the  genial  influence  of  the  beer  pump,  to  extract  the  needed 
local  details  and  family  history.  He  was  soon  leisurely 
occupied  in  his  enjoyment  of  a  cigar,  in  the  gloaming. 

"  So,  Mr.  Hooper  Compton  Hailey  Osgood,  I  will  put 
my  chum,  mon  cher  Alphonse,  to  watch  this  little  nest.  I 
will  mark  you  down.  I  will  follow  your  wanderings  my- 
self the  next  day,  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  your  little  game 


306  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

is  not  ripe  yet,  neither  is  mine!  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman 
shall  know  only  just  what  he  pays  for,  bit  by  bit,  and 
when  he  knows  a  great  deal,  he  will  have  paid  a  very  great 
deal.     That's  my  motto,  '  Cash  upon  delivery!'" 

It  thus  fell  out,  that  Wyman  implicitly  believed  Morani's 
untruthful  evening  report,  that  he  had  followed  Hooper 
into  an  office  building,  in  Holborn,  and,  after  shadowing 
the  entrance  for  a  while,  to  his  dismay  he  found  there  was 
a  front  of  the  building  on  the  other  street.  "But,  you  see, 
sir,  he  is  here,  and  I  will  mark  him  down.  He  has  some 
business  in  the  city." 

Wyman,  who  pitlessly  lied  to  the  whole  world,  who  was 
himself  a  cheat  and  a  villian,  never  for  a  moment  fancied  that 
his  own  crafty  valet  was  an  humble  brother  of  the  craft  of 
traitor  scoundrels.  He  bowed  his  head  in  thought,  as  the 
valet  ended  his  story.  "  I  must  get  that  fellow  Hooper  out 
of  the  way.  Even  if  I  were  to-  denounce  him  at  Scotland 
Yard.  Fool  I  am  to  fret,"  he  mused.  "  An  anonymous 
letter  to  the  agencies  of  the  bank  here  will  do  the  business. 
The  banks  which  he  swindled  were  two  of  them  English, 
with  their  head  offices  here.  Transportation  or  state's 
prison  for  twenty  years  awaits  him.  In  either  case,  as  a 
felon,  his  future  testimony  is  forever  barred  out.  I  must 
find  him  and  have  him  locked  up  before  my  deal  is  well 
on,  while  I  am  preparing  to  attack  the  London  market. 
He  reads  all  the  journals.     It  would  be  a  risk." 

"Tony,"  the  miner  said,  "I  have  soon  to  go  to  Paris. 
I'll  give  you  six  months  if  you  need  it  to  find  this  man! 
A  hundred  pounds  a  month  I  give  you  for  'extras,'  your 
regular  salary  goes  on,  and  a  thousand  pounds  as  a  pres- 
ent, if  you  locate  him,  so  that  I  can  get  at  him,  without 
exciting  the  least  suspicion.  I  will  leave  you  behind  here. 
I  want  you  not  to  fail  to  run  him  down.  There's  your  first 
one  hundred  pounds,  and  a  fifty  for  a  starter  as  reward  for 


FRESH    FIELDS    A  XI)    PASTURES    NEW.  307 

your  week's  work.  Don't  fail  me  now.  Don't  lose  him 
again." 

"  I'll  have  him  for  you,  long  before  the  end  of  the  six 
months,"  cried  the  happy  valet,  who  softly  chuckled  as  he 
obtained  his  last  orders. 

At  a  neat  little  private  supper,  an  hour  later,  Morani 
opened  the  gate  of  Paradise,  to  a  pretty  dark-eyed  French 
waif  whom  he  had  found  in  those  dim  circles,  where  high 
grade  London  servants  often  have  more  gay  enjoyment 
than  the  blase  children  of  fashion  whom  they  serve. 

"I  will  now  install  my  own  household,  very  near 
tcf  the  Hailey  Osgood  villa,  and  there,  cultivate  the  graces 
of  country  life, "  Morani  decided.  And  it  was  true  that  his 
days  ran  on  in  peace  and  plenty,  as  he  carefully  followed 
the  curious  meanderings  of  Mr.  Compton,  the  busy  city 
money  broker  by  day,  and  his  elegant  twin  brother  "Hailey 
Osgood"  of  the  evening,  the  whole-souled  Australian 
emigre.  The  snappy-eyed  Parisienne  deftly  lingered  on 
the  path  of  Mrs.  Hailey  Osgood  who  was  blooming'  out  as 
a  moss  rose,  a  very  dewy  blossom  of  correct  country  life. 

"But,  for  my  life,"  the  puzzled  valet  spy  said  two  weeks 
later,  "I  can  not  see  the  object  of  this  fellow's  attention 
to  such  a  petty  little  business;  for,  only  a  few  occasional 
foreigners,  mostly  Jews  of  humble  appearance,  or  im- 
pecunious-looking London  clerks  ever  profaned  the  dingy 
office  of  '  Compton,  Money  Broker. '  "  Yet,  Morani  gradu- 
ally learned  that  all  checks  signed  "  Compton"  were  known 
to  be  easily  passable  in  the  neighborly  money  exchanges. 
There  was  some  little  activity  now  and  then,  and  he 
himself  tracked  the  ex-broker  to  the  General  Postoffice, 
where  he  often  posted  and  sometimes  received  a  large 
mail.  "Is  this  cool  rascal  already  at  his  old  work," 
mused  the  spy.  "I  might  warn  and  blackmail  him." 
He  noted  a  variety  of  changes  in  the  homeward  journey, 


308  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

and  a  seasonable  variation   of    "Mr.   Hailey  Osgood's" 
dress,  but  always  assumed  at  the  same  lodging-house. 

Vinnie  Hinton  never  left  Chiswick.  What  held  her 
charms  in  obscurity?  Hooper  was  known  as  "a  nice, 
quiet  gentleman,"  at  his  lodging  rooms,  one  who  used  the 
room  only  for  rest  and  convenience  when  in  town,  and 
for  his  occasional  down-town  writing.  "  Visitors  he  has, 
oh,  yes,  but  always  gentlemen,  mostly  strangers  to  Lon- 
don." A  reasonable  flirtation  with  the  slavey  of  that 
lodging-house  yielded  Tony  this  report,  and  nothing 
more. 

"I  will  let  this  whole  down-town  thing  go,"  decided 
Tony  in  digust  at  seeing  the  daily  prosaic  honesty  of  the 
fugitive's  humble  city  life.  "  The  villa  life  is  the  thing  to 
probe!  There,  I  will  find  the  key  to  the  riddle.  His 
scheme  lies  there.     What  is  it?" 

Before  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  had  been  carousing  two 
weeks  longer  in  Paris,  a  curling  black  full  beard  began 
to  line  out  the  face  of  his  London  representative.  It 
flowed  out  in  a  hairy  disguise  which  buried  the  delicacy 
of  the  Frenchman's  features,  and  his  locks  were  Absa- 
lomic.  "When  this  is  at  its  full  growth,  my  own  mother 
would  not  know  me,"  proudly  declared  the  happy  Gaul. 
"I  can  very  safely  approach  the  mansion  as  a  French 
cook  in  search  of  employ.  I  can  interview  the  servants, 
but,  ah!  not  Madame.     Never!" 

The  great  delegation  of  two,  from  San  Francisco  had 
majestically  crossed  the  Channel  on  pleasures  bent,  pre- 
ceded by  the  fluttering  winged  dove,  Mrs.  Milly  Ham- 
mond, who  flew  out  first  by  several  days.  The  gentle  eyes 
of  the  unsuspecting  Gladys  Lyndon  were  not  even  lifted 
in  question  as  Mrs.  Hammond  artfully  detailed  her  various 
movements,  for,  in  truth,  the  days  had  passed  in  a  dream 
to  the  girl  whose  unceasing  studies  were  only  broken  by 


FRESH    FIELDS    ANT)     PASTURES    NEW.  309 

the  frequent  visits  of  the  "gentleman  from  Boston."  In 
a  rapidly  growing  daily  companionship,  with  the  sweet 
secretive  sense  of  hitherto  unknown  feelings  still  in  their 
bud,  the  lonely  orphan  instinctively  held  Otis  apart  from 
the  two  companions  of  her  voyage.  He  seemed  to  fill  a 
separate  niche  in  her  heart.  And  in  her  own  inner  soul, 
the  sweet  newer  life,  into  which  she  was  daily  drifting, 
seemed  to  have  its  sacredly-treasured  secret.  Her  one 
friend. 

Frederick  Wyman  was  overjoyed  on  arrival  at  the  semi- 
detached state  of  his  renewed  relations  with  the  wanderer 
from  Van  Ness  avenue.  It  suited  his  newer  secret  game! 
"You  see,  Milly,"  he  confidentially  murmured,  "these 
San  Francisco  people  are  all  so  sharp-eyed.  It  would 
never  do  for  us  to  be  seen  too  frequently  together. "  A 
gleam  of  quiet  happiness  lit  up  Milly  Hammond's  eyes 
when  she  gracefully  yielded  to  her  lover's  suggestion  that 
she  should  inhabit  the  Hotel  Athenee,  while  the  new  finan- 
cial partners  ornamented  the  Grand  Hotel.  "I  can,  in 
this  arrangement,  always  drop  in  quietly  to  see  you," 
pleaded  Wyman.  It  was  equally  convenient  for  Hiram, 
alas!  "In  the  meantime  go  about,  my  little  one,  and 
see  all  the  world  you  can.  Lose  nothing,  not  a  single 
pleasure,   on  my  account." 

"  I  will  not,  Fred,"  modestly  replied  his  friend!  "  But, 
I  will  be  a  bit  lonely,  now  and  then." 

In  fact,  the  lady  was  lonely,  so  lonely  that  when  Fred- 
erick Wyman,  Esq.,  was  airing  his  new  Poole  dress-suit 
at  the  opera,  in  charge  of  the  haughty  Buford  ladies,  or 
engaged  in  other  definite  occupations,  "the  dear  old  Gen- 
eral "  kindly  took  a  short  walk  and  cheered  up  the  fair 
pilgrim,  Milly,  who  literally  kept  "a  lamp  in  the  window  " 
for  him.  It  was  a  shining  light  for  him,  for  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond   would    have    distinguished  herself  in  the  "signal 


310  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

cups  "  of  an  Amazonian  army,  and  in  this  fashion,  every- 
thing was  smoothly  moving.  All  went  merry  as  a  mar- 
riage bell! 

The  social  courage  of  the  parvenu,  Wyman,  had  risen  to 
a  considerable  degree  of  audacity  since  he  began  work- 
ing the  London  market.  He  copied  Buford's  dashing 
pompousness.  Nothing  emboldens  like  strident  success. 
His  every  onward  footstep  had  easily  turned  to  gold  so 
far,  and  he  had  also  found  all  women  so  pliant,  so  easy  to 
win,  so  light  in  the  rein,  so  quickly  tamed  at  his  golden 
touch.  Feeling  daily  that  he  was  drifting  in  triumph, 
drifting  toward  the  Golden  Gate,  where  the  mansion  of 
the  mighty  Buford  hovered  high  planted  there,  lit  up 
with  sparkling  wedding  lights  in  the  happy,  future  days, 
when  the  "London  Market "  had  been  scientifically  worked 
out,  Wyman  delicately  shaded  off  his  personal  attentions 
to  Mrs.  Hammond.  "She  might  ruin  me  with  Minnie," 
he  fancied.  "  I  will  go  a  little  slowly,  safely  with  her. 
She  cannot  help  me,  save  as  to  Gladys,  and  that  she  must 
do.  I  can  easily,  by  a  handsome  wardrobe  and  a  pre- 
tended sudden  change  of  plans,  suggest  her  early  home- 
ward flitting,  perhaps  even  alone. " 

He  little  dreamed  that  for  the  second  time  in  Europe  he 
was  being  betrayed  by  one  of  his  nearest  "  incumbrances." 
He  had  also  fallen,  through  over-confidence  into  a  coarse 
and  almost  proprietary  view  of  regarding  his  charming 
protegee,  the  Prima  Donna  of  the  future.  She  was  in  his 
power,  almost  at  his  disposal!  It  was  a  suggestion  of  his 
egoistic  and  brutal  nature  to  often  visit  the  musical  stu- 
dent alone.  "She  will  have  to  get  used  to  me,"  he 
sneered.  With  no  knowledge  of  the  world,  helpless  and 
socially  inexperienced,  the  gentle  orphan  at  last,  was 
forced  to  recognize  the  growing  half -insolence  of  his  man- 
ner and  the  gradual  cessation  of  that  deferential  and  florid 


FRESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTURES    NEW.  311 

courtesy  which  had  marked  all  his  behavior  on  the  voyage. 
She  shuddered  with  an  illy-defined  fear  which,  as  yet, 
took  no  definite  shape. 

And  so  far, there  was  no  open  betrayal  of  the  "inner  man." 
No  frank  unveiling  of  the  Mokanna  face.  Before  the 
frightened  girl,  in  her  lonely  hours,  there  always  rose  up 
the  great  obligation  which  tied  her  to  this  man,  more  un- 
welcome in  his  every  visit,  and,  once  viewed  as  only  the 
gateway  to  a  golden  future,  his  generosity  seemed  now  to 
hide  behind  it  some  lurking,  baleful  purpose.  And  so, tremb- 
ling in  her  shrinking  helplessness,  she  waited  mutely  and 
only  prayed  for  his  early  departure,  and  also  that  her  new 
friend,  Otis,  should  not  be  made  a  witness  of  a  growing 
familiarity  which  she  failed  yet  to  view  in  its  right  light. 
Fear  tied  her  lips.  She  was  young,  so  fresh  in  the  world's 
hard  ways,  and  she  had  now  not  a  single  friend  in  the 
world.  She  dared  not  speak  to  Mrs.  Hammond.  Waldo 
Strong  was  far,  far  away,  and  penniless,  she  knew  but  too 
well! 

But  there  was  a  shadow  from  the  West  slowly  creeping  on 
to  darken  the  bright  golden  noon  of  the  effulgent  pros- 
perity, which  beamed  in  such  torrid  radiance  on  the 
haughty  young  owner  o£  the  "  Lone  Star." 

It  had  been  the  engrossing  labor  of  a  whole  week  for 
Waldo  Strong  to  trace  back  all  the  record  entries,  which 
referred  to  the  members  of  one  Hooper,  Bowen  &  Co.'s 
syndicate,  and  he  had  extended  the  search  of  titles  as  re- 
garded Wyman,back  to  the  very  beginning  of  the  records. 
Long  and  deeply,  did  the  grave-faced  San  Francisco  lawyer 
ponder  the  history  of  the  group  of  mines  on  the  mountain- 
side, which  had  been  originally  handled  by  the  three  oper- 
ators. He  was  far  too  wise  to  attempt  to  show  himself  at 
the  "Lone  Star"  mine,  but,  he  easily  learned  that  the 
mills  would  soon  start  up  again,  the  disasters  of   the  fire 


312  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

being  at  last  remedied,  and  the  main  shaft  properly  con- 
nected with  the  south  end  mines. 

Seated  alone,  pondering  over  his  note-book,  Waldo 
Strong  was  astonished  at  the  shadowy  irregularity  of  all 
the  holdings  of  Hooper  and  Bowen,  under  a  mere  assess- 
ment work  sale.  The  conveyances  of  the  Mariquita  mine 
to  Frederick  Wyman  by  Robert  Deverenx,  the  original 
discoverer,  seemed  all  regular,  and  yet, the  absent  Devereux 
had  abandoned  a  large  number  of  locations  seemingly  more 
promising, at  the  same  time.  "  And, he  seems  to  have  acted 
very  strangely.  Wyman  was  his  partner,"  the  lawyer  ex- 
claimed. "Why  did  he  not  care  for  these  interests  of  the 
absent  man,  or  buy  them  in?"  The  singularity  of  the  final 
transfer  of  Devereux's  Mariquita  interest  at  Truckee  also 
gave  him  a  certain  uneasiness.  In  furtive  conversation 
with  several  old  timers,  he  finally  discovered  that  Dever- 
eux had  vanished  from  Virginia  City  very  suddenly,  gone 
away  seemingly  for  a  short  stay,  a^  1  had  never  returned, 
and  had  abandoned  some  properties,  selling  the  rest  for  a 
mere  nominal  sum. 

Strong  had  pushed  his  researches,  and  was  now  ready  at 
last  to  depart  for  San  Francisco.  He  walked  out  alone  in  the 
cool  evening  and  wandered  down  to  where  he  could  see  the 
whole  group  of  mines  in  their  relation  to  the  great  central 
vein.  The  whole  debated  property  lay  spread  out  before 
him.  A  great  mountain  spur,  with  a  lone  pine  tree  on  its 
towering  rugged  crest,  hung  over  the  gloomy  entrance  to 
Grizzly  Canon.  He  could  trace  the  location  of  the  lead- 
ing mines  on  the  Comstock  by  the  lights  of  the  stamp 
mills  pounding  away  night  and  day.  Far  below  him,  the 
silent  mill  and  hoist-works  of  the  "Lone  Star"  were  dimly 
visible,  only  watchmen's  lights  in  sight,  save  at  the  clust- 
ered offices  and  boarding  houses. 

The  baffled  counselor  sat  down  on  a  boulder  and  mused 


FRESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTURES    NEW.  313 

over  the  vanished  past. '  "He  seems  to  have  got  hold  of 
this  mine  in  a  strangely  lucky  way.  This  man  Devereux 
simply  disappeared!  It  was  even  some  time  before  the 
Truckee  conveyance  was  placed  on  record."  The  disaster 
to  the  mine  again  returned  to  haunt  him.  The  awful 
death  of  the  hapless  men  cooped  up  therein.  The  sky  was 
now  overcast  with  clouds,  and  only  a  single  bright  star 
hovered  over  the  mountain  before  him.  A  strangely  added 
suspicion  startled  him  as  his  eye  rested  on  that  star!  "  The 
mine,  this  very  mine,  the  only  rich  one  of  all  the  Dever- 
eux locations,  was  first  named  '  the  Mariquita.'  Dever- 
eux himself  so  called  it,  and  Wyman  has  promptly 
changed  the  name  to  the  '  Lone  Star.'  Why  did  he  do 
this?" 

There  was  a  strange  voice  which  now  seemed  to  whisper 
in  Strong's  ear  the  word  ''Murder!"  He  sprang  to  his  feet! 
His  nerves  were  thrilling  weirdly  in  an  unfamiliar  fear. 
"I  have  over-studied  myself  into  fantasies  about  this 
thing,"  he  resolutely  decided,  as  he  turned  and  wandered 
back  toward  the  hotel,  "but,  I  will  look  up  this  whole 
Devereux  history.  If  that  man  died  and  left  heirs,  they 
have  a  valuable  interest  in  this  Hooper-Bowen  group.  If 
there  has  been  any  hidden  fraud,  then  even  the  '  Lone 
Star,'  once  the  'Mariquita,'  is  now  a  great  stake  to  play 
for!  I  will  search  the  San  Francisco  records  of  the  ex- 
press offices,  the  postal  records,  perhaps  advertise.  Rob- 
ert Devereux  himself  may  be  found  alive  later,  unless,  un- 
less, he  was  made  away  with.  His  abandoning  so  many 
locations  looks  very,  very  strange." 

In  his  room,  alone,  the  ruined  lawyer  speculator  dreamed 
of  the  strange  malevolent  influence  of  the  victorious  Wyman 
over  his  own  ruined  future.  ' '  The  scoundrel ! "  he  groaned, 
"And,  the  very  last  I  saw  him,  face  to  face,  he  was  gaz- 
ing at  Gladys  Lyndon ;  she  is  gone,  but  whither?     The 


314  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

poverty,  the  defeat,  he  has  inflicted  on  me,  has  lost  her  to 
me  forever,  for  fate  has  swept  her  form  from  my  arms. " 
And  then  the  victim  of  adverse  fortune  lived  over,  in  his 
solitary  watch  those  hopeless  imaginings  which  haunt  the 
steadfast  minds  of  the  loving,  those  under  the  ban,  who 
are  doubly  desolate,  in  finding  themselves  in  the  dark- 
ness, described  by  the  one  lone  star  shining  down  for  them 
on  life's  long  pathway.  When  that  beloved  ray  is  lost 
then  all  is  wrapped  in  a  two-fold  gloom!  His  loneliness 
voiced  itself  in  words  addressed  to  one  now  far  away ! 

ALONE. 

Yon  star  swims,  singly,  now,  on  high, 
Which  gleams  upon  the  lone  tree  nigh, 
Alone!  I  trust  that  whispering  pine, 
This  message  from  my  heart,  to  thine! 

Beloved  one!     My  soul's  one  star! 
Veiled  from  mine  eyes,  where'er  you  are, 
Alone!  I  breathe  a  name,  in  love, 
Unto  the  star  lamp,  there  above! 

Blest  be  that  spot,  lost  darling  mine, 
Where  trembling  rays  upon  you,  shine! 
Alone!  I  whisper  in  my  heart, 
We  meet,  one  day,  to  never  part! 

Go!  Happy  star!  and  find  my  love 
Your  rays  shall  thrill  her,  from  above! 
Alone!    There's  yet  one  throb  divine, 
AVhich  quivers  from  my  heart,  to  thine! 

Down  the  dark  mountain  sweeps  the  wind, 
And  leaves  me,  lingering  here  behind, 
Alone!  Ah!  Take  these  words  in  fee, 
My  greeting!    Loved  and  lost!    To  Thee! 

Strong,  seated   by  his    table  in   despondency,  was  sud- 
denly reminded  of  the  duty  of  his  early  departure  for  San 


FRESH    FIELDS    AND    PASTURES    NEW.  315 

Francisco,  by  the  arrival  of  a  telegram  brought   by  a  spe- 
cial messenger,  with  orders  to  obtain  an  immediate  answer. 

'  *  They  asked  me  to  say  to  you  that  the  San  Francisco 
parties  were  anxiously  waiting  at  the  office,  down  there, 
for  your  answer." 

The  counselor' s  fingers  trembled,  as  he  tore  open  the 
yellow  envelope.  Some  current  of  strange  fates  seemed 
to  drift  his  varying  soul  to  and  fro  in  wild  eddies  on  this 
strange  night.  The  telegram  was  in  cipher,  and  when  he 
had  spread  it  out,  as  word  after  word  was  revealed  under 
the  key  given  him  by  the  bank  manager,  the  blood  leaped 
to  his  forehead  and  throbbed  wildly  in  his  temples.  It 
read: 

"  Come  back  here  at  once.  A  full  examination  of  the 
' '  Lone  Star  "  title  is  ordered  by  our  home  office.  London 
expert  is  now  here  to  examine  the  mine.  We  name  you  to 
examine  the  title.  Secret  instructions  are  waiting.  An- 
swer. ' '  It  was  marked,  <  <  strictly  private  and  confidential. 
See  Manager  alone." 

The  weapons  he  had  longed  for,  were  now  forged  ready 
to  his  hand!     He  sprang  up. 

<<  Now,"  growled  Waldo  Strong,  "  Mr.  Frederick  Wy- 
man,  I  will  soon  find  out  where  Robert  Devereux  went 
to,  and,  the  hidden  secret  doors  of  the  past  shall  be  all  un- 
sealed." His  fingers  flew  in  the  transcription  of  his  prompt 
reply,  and  once  again  the  night  winds  seemed  to  wail 
"Murder!" 


316  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
The  Turn  of  the  Tide. 

Two  weeks  after  the  arrival  of  the  Buford  menage  in 
Paris,  that  splendid  chrysopolitan  delegation,  the  Buford 
family,  ornamented  the  afternoon  monthly  reception  of 
the  charming  wife  of  the  American  minister.  It  was  al- 
most in  the  capacity  of  a  declared  lover,  that  the  elegant 
Wyman  escorted  Miss  Minnie  Buford.  All  American 
Paris  thronged  the  salons,  for  a  happy  chance  had  been 
afforded  the  American  colony  to  hear  the  voice  of  the 
caged  song  bird,  whose  beauty  and  rising  genius  could  not 
be  long  hidden  under  the  French  substitute  for  a  bushel. 
Madame  PAmbassadrice  was  the  proud  mother  of  a  budding 
daughter,  one  of  Jthe  Columbian  heiresses  to  all  the  arts 
and  graces.  It  was  but  a  fitting  tribute  to  the  sympathetic 
Californian  singer,  that  the  daughter  of  fortune,  with  a 
girl's  impetuosity,  raved  unceasing  of  the  charms  of  this 
hidden  beauty.  And  so,  after  some  protest  from  the 
Maestro,  as  Gladys  Lyndon  was  already  a  semi-professional, 
the  neophyte' s  exquisite  voice  and  wonderful  beauty  thrilled 
and  startled  the  self-classified  aristocrats  of  traveling 
America. 

They  were  of  all  grades,  from  the  wild  untamed  Texas 
cattle  man,  the  scientific  Chicago  pig  assassinator,  the 
prononce  "  bonanza "  western  sample  millionaires,  faded 
politicians,  Generals  of  vast  renown  in  the  piping  times 
of  peace,  inventors,  artists,  schemers  and  literary  men;  a 
motley  crowd  who  all  either  had  axes  to  grind,  or  else 
had  put  such  an  excellent  edge  thereon  that  grinding  was 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE.  oil 

with  them  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  further  sharpening 
would  be  impossible.  The  great  literati,  artists,  and  club 
men  were  conspicuously  absent,  on  other  pleasures  bent, 
but  the  citizens  present,  were  all  * '  prominent  in  their  own 
communities." 

This  universal  "prominence"  is  one  of  the  blessed 
attributes  of  our  deliciously  free  country,  and  our  remark- 
ably active  "  personal  journalism."  Women  of  all  grades 
dressed  "  a  quatre  epingles,"  exhibited  the  multinora  of 
our  beloved  country.  They  were  assorted  in  type,  but  all 
high  in  their  own  esteem;  and  were  charming  exemplars  of 
different  forms  of  beauty,  and  styles  of  "modern  art,"  for 
the  beauty  mill  of  America  grinds  out  jewels  of  varied 
size,  luster,  sheen  and  gorgeous  tint,  suited  to  the  most 
fastidious  (matrimonial)  purchaser. 

As  we  are  all  born  "free  and  equal,"  it  is  according  to 
our  elastic  social  laws,  that  among  these  dames  were  those 
who  haughtily  claimed  their  right  to  be  there,  those  who 
were  bidden,  those  who  were  glad  to  be  there,  and  several 
who  had  no  especial  right  to  be  anywhere,  and,  hence, 
ornamented  Paris,  for,  up  to  a  certain  protective  line  of 
some  elasticity,  Paris  resembles  San  Francisco,  where,  as 
a  terse  social  philosopher  remarked,  "  Everything  goes!" 
One  and  all,  as  the  assembly  dispersed,  agreed,  by  a  "large 
majority,"  as  to  the  brilliance  of  the  golden  future  hover- 
ing over  the  fair  young  singer,  who  was  considered  to 
have  cast  an  improving  luster  upon  the  "Eagle  Bird." 

Keenly  watching  Mrs.  Hammond,  and  particularly 
mindful  of  the  basilisk  eye  of  Miss  Minnie  Buford,  Mr. 
Frederick  Wyman  did  not  join  the  throng  surrounding  the 
beautiful  Gladys,  who  with  gleaming,  happy  eyes,  stood  in 
a  circle  of  her  generous  countrywomen,  half  buried  in 
votive  flowers  impulsively  offered.  "  I  will  see  her  later, 
alone!  "  the  capitalist  promised  himself,  with  a  delightful 


318  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

sense  of  mastership,  which  the  unprotected  girl  could  not 
escape.  But,  his  brow  grew  as  black  as  night  when  he  ob- 
served his  secret  foe  Jack  Otis,  bending  over  the  girl's 
hand  in  a  respectful  salute. 

There  is  no  shade  of  human  expression  which  can  es- 
cape the  cold,  keen  eye  of  jealousy.  Wyman  on  the 
watch  caught  at  once  the  tender  flash  of  Gladys'  happy 
eyes.  There  was  no  repression,  no  deceit  in  them.  In 
her  hour  of  triumph,  the  girl's  lofty  soul  shone  out  from 
the  Gates  Ajar,  to  signal  to  the  one  whose  mute  sympathy 
had  thrilled  her  in  all  that  glittering  throng  of  the  happy 
children  of  Mammon,  for  she  had  sung  to  him,  alone ! 

"  Damn  it!  I'll  put  a  spoke  out  of  that  fellow's  wheel," 
was  Wyman's  rough  mental  soliloquy,  and  that  one  happy 
glance  burned  in  his  resentful  soul.  To  his  horror,  however, 
on  turning,  after  some  routine  attentions  to  the  imperious 
one,  whose  banner  already  waved  over  him,  Mrs.  Buford 
herself  was  the  most  prominent  and  energetic  of  all  Miss 
Lyndon's  worshipers.  The  queen  of  Nob  Hill  proposed 
to  "stagger  all  Paris,"  with  some  little  festivities  of  her 
own  later,  and  her  own  royal  voice,  not  to  be  gainsaid, 
had  decreed  that  this  occidental  star  of  music  should  shine 
thereat.     A  new  menace  to  Wyman's  schemes! 

"I  will  not  take  'No,'  for  an  answer.  You  must 
promise  me  now,  Miss  Lyndon.  You  are  our  own  repre- 
sentative, you  know,"  and  as  Wyman  slightly  bowed,  in 
passing,  he  heard  <a  delicate  reference,  "carte  blanche  as 
to  terms,  you  know.  In  London,  in  our  set,  you 
would  surely  make  the  sensation  of  next  season,"  and 
now,  he  would   be  under  a  double  fire. 

Frederick  Wyman  groaned  in  rage  as  he  moved  on  down 
the  great  staircase,  but,  Vanity  Fair's  parade  was  around 
him.  He  smiled  and  suffered.  He  muttered,  "I  must 
stop  this    thing  at  once,"  for  it  suddenly  dawned    upon 


THE    TURK    OF    THE    TIDE.  319 

his  practical  mind  that,  muzzled  by  the  sharp-eyed  heiress, 
he  could  not  so  easily  dominate  Gladys  Lyndon's  future. 
"She  may  get  away  from  me,"  he  reflected,  "with  her 
chances  of  final  success,  and,  that  face!  Some  fool  of  a 
1  manager,  some  rich  idiot  of  a  romantic  turn,  may  bear  her 
away  or,  even  marry  her.  And  this  damned  fellow,  Otis, 
too,  seems  to  be  really  making  up  to  her.  I  wonder  if  he 
has  got  any  money,"  for,  Wyman  regarded  money  the 
key  to  every  woman's  heart!  He  was  moody  and  thoughtful 
as  he  drove  away  to  the  Grand  Hotel. 

The  Bufords  were  about  to  take  a  splendid  house, leaping 
quickly  into  that  sudden  air  of  permanence  which  ready 
gold  can  so  gracefully  arrange  in  Paris.  A  short,  bril- 
liant campaign  there,  a  later  one  on  far  grander  lines  in 
London.  Such  was  the  programme  of  this  millionaire 
feminine  Alexander,  who  would  thus  conquer  all  the 
worlds  she  cared  to  shine  in. 

"It  would  be  devilish  awkward  to  have  this  girl,  Lyn- 
don, as  a  sort  of  a  show-fairy  princess,  knocking  around 
near  us,  all  the  while."  Even  in  his  "  blissful  ignorance," 
as  regarded  the  "adaptable"  and  adroit  Milly  Hammond, 
he  feared  the  baleful  influence  of  General  Hiram  Buford, — 
"  on  general  principles."  "  It  is  a  fatal  mistake  to  mix  up 
love  and  business,"  gloomily  soliloquized  the  discontented 
Wyman,  "and  old  Buford  is  no  man  to  be  trusted  near  where 
a  woman  is  concerned."  In  his  preoccupation,  Wyman  for- 
got to  extend  this  verdict  to  his  conduct, in  all  other  sublunary 
matters.  "  If  I  could  only  plant  her  in  Italy,  somewhere 
out  of  the  way,"  he  dreamed,  and  as  the  carriage  drove 
into  the  court  of  the  great  caravansera,  a  suddenly  formed 
plan  was  evolved  which  he  proceeded  to  elaborate  over 
several  cocktails  at  the  American  bar. 

The  blood  was  bounding  in  his  veins  with  rage  and 
jealousy,  when  he  returned  to  dress  for  dinner,  as  an  opera 


320  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

outing  with  the  ladies,  awaited  him.  The  calm,  passionless 
face  of  Otis  had  taken  on  that  glow  of  transparent  shining 
love  and  pride  which  lights  up  the  face  of  a  man,  thrilled 
with  the  one  passion  of  his  life.  It  haunted  and  enraged 
Wyman!  "I'll  go  around  there  night,  for  half  an  hour, 
before  the  opera,"  angrily  cried  Wyman.  "I  must  bring 
her  under  my  hand,"  he  growled.  He  was  in  a  mental 
tumult,  as  a  steward  begged  him  to  go  at  once  back  to  the 
bureau  of  the  hotel. 

"This  cablegram  for  Monsieur,  to  be  repeated  delivery 
has  just  arrived.  I  have  the  honor,"  and,  the  beautiful 
young  Chef  de  Bureau  looked  over  Wyman's  shoulder 
and  ogled  a  pair  of  dashing  American  girls,  whose 
prettiness  and  "  previousness  "  was  the  talk  of  the  hotel. 
They  had  already  distanced  Daisy  Miller,  by  several  laps 
in  the  circuit  of  life's  race,  and  were*  both  well  in  hand, 
with  "lots  of  speed"  left!  Monsieur  Bernard  de  Vaubec, 
(the  aforesaid  picturesque  clerk,  who  posed  as  a  reduced 
Marquis),  for  the  first  time  in  his  existence,  heard  a  verita- 
ble Comstock  cyclone  of  energetic,  every-day  cursing.  He 
started  in  unfeigned  alarm,  for  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  had 
read  the  dispatch  handed  him,  with  eyes  whose  malignant 
fire  fairly  made  the  elegant  official  writhe. 

* '  Send  a  man  out  with  me  to  the  nearest  cable  office. 
A  coupe,  quick."     Wyman  was  livid! 

The  very  solid  earth  seemed  to  swing  round  under  the 
speculator's  feet,  as  he  read  the  dispatch  signed  "  Brown 
Wilder."     Its  very  words  seemed  traced   in   living  fire. 
They  were  the  first  danger  of  ten  long  successful  years. 
They  were  as  follows: 

"Expert  accepts  mine,  but  the  bank's  counsel  reject  your 
title.  Advertisements  are  out,  in  all  the  papers,  calling  for 
Robert  Devereux  or  his  heirs.  Come  home  at  once.  Ut- 
most importance.      Standing  of  mine  on  Exchange  abso- 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE.  321 

lutely  ruined  until  you  come  back.  Work  all  going  on 
well.  Answer,  giving  your  date  of  sailing.  Send  instruc- 
tions.    Telegraph  to  our  bank.  Brown- Wilder." 

It  was  only  when  Wyman  had  delivered  and  paid  for  his 
long  reply  that  the  blood  returned  in  definite  waves  to  his 
brain.  To  consult  the  sailing  tables,  to  decide  instantly 
upon  departure,  was  only  the  work  of  five  minutes. 

"  I  think  they  will  easily  understand  that,"  he  grimly 
said,  as  he  looked  at  a  copy  he  had  made  of  his  brief  mes- 
sage.    It  read: 

"Sail  to-morrow,  Havre,  La  Bretagne.  Come  right  on 
through.  Mail  and  telegrams,  Hoffman  House,  New  York. 
Deny  all  reports.  Infamous  blackmail  lie.  Have  tele- 
graphed to  the  bank.  Wyman." 

His  cablegram  to  the  Anglo-Californian  bank  was  a 
guarantee  of  his  title  by  an  offer  to  deposit,  in  escrow,  nine- 
tenths  of  the  whole  stock  of  the  "  Lone  Star"  against  half 
of  the  purchase  price,  and  announced  his  immediate  return. 
"  I  have  to  work  quickly,"  he  decided,  as  he  sprang 
from  the  carriage  in  the  Grand  Hotel  courtyard.  Already, 
his  facile  mind  was  at  work.  "  The  General,  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond, Gladys,  the  tall,  perfect  blonde,  whose  day  of  tri- 
umph had  also  brought  to  him  this  black  storm  cloud.  His 
eye  rested  on  the  clock  as  he  called  a  halt  and  marshalled 
his  mental  forces.  "  Let  me  see,"  he  mused,  "half -past 
five!  I  can  first  see  Mrs.  Buford  and  Minnie.  I  dare  not 
tell  old  Hiram  this,  it  would  ruin  all  now.  I  must  have 
his  influence  and  backing.  I  will  not  be  bothered  any 
more  with  Milly  Hammond.  I  will  satisfy  her,  and  then 
leave  her  to  work  her  way  homeward  alone." 

At  that  very  moment,  the  graceful  chameleon  of  love 
was  gently  working  her  way  homeward  to  the  Grand 
Hotel,  which  trip  involved  two  carriages,  one  for  a  drive 
of  circumlocution,  with  the   sighing  General,  who  was   to 


322  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

arrive  later,  and  the  other,  to  bring  her  back,  alone,  from 
her  "  shopping." 

"  There  is  no  time  like  the  present,"  quickly  concluded 
Wyman.  His  libations  gave  him  a  strange  recklessness. 
"  Mrs.  Buford  once  on  my  side,  and  Minnie  word  passed, 
then,  the  General  cannot  very  well  recede,  for  I  will 
spread  the  news  of  the  engagement  as  I  go  along!  The 
family  cannot  weaken.  The *  <  American  Register"  shall  have 
it  at  once,  so  he  is  tied  to  my  interest.     I'll  do  it!" 

Satisfying  himself  that  General  Buford  was  really  out, 
the  graceful  adventurer,  with  a  well-acted  deference,  with 
a  touching  trust  in  Mrs.  Buford's  already  established 
friendship,  in  a  few  earnest  sentences  told  her  of  a  sud- 
den necessity  for  his  secret  departure  for  San  Francisco. 
"  My  general  interests  are  so  large,"  he  modestly  said, 
"  that  I  do  not  dare  trust  any  one  man  with  my  power  of 
attorney.  I  am  so  far  alone  in  the  world,"  he  smiled.  "  I 
will  not  feel  that  I  am  alone,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  tell 
your  daughter  what  I  am  sure  her  own  heart  has  already 
whispered.  My  affairs  will  demand  my  writing  nearly  all 
to-night.  My  man  is  already  packing  up  my  luggage,  and 
the  opera,  I  fear,  must  await  my  return."  He  smiled. 
He  had  trusted  the  outpourings  of  his  heart  first  to  the 
flattered  matron.  "Now,"  the  handsome  miner  concluded, 
"  my  whole  future,  Madam,  rests  upon  your  kindness,  and 
I  feel  sure  that  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Buford,  have  felt  for 
some  weeks  that  I  would  soon  come  to  you  on  this  happy 
matter.      It  is  my  whole  life!" 

Gently  beguiled  by  Wyman's  easy  flattery,  and  the 
pleading  of  his  submissive  eyes,  Mrs.  Buford,  startled,  yet 
pleased  at  heart,  arose,  and  with  kindly  eyes,  wished  him 
good  fortune.  "Trust  to  me,"  she  graciously  said,  as 
Wyman  respectfully  kissed  her  hand. 

When   the   portiere   of  the   splendid  salon  was  swung 


THE    TUEN    OF    THE    TIDE.  323 

aside  at  last,  the  piercing  but  coyly-expectant  glances  of 
Minnie  Buford  bade  him  hope  for  the  best.  Those  glit- 
tering eyes,  sentinels  of  her  watchful  soul,  told  him  that 
all  was  well.  The  queen  of  Nob  Hill  had  softened  the 
sudden  disclosure.  No  deceit  hovered  in  his  impassioned 
words  as  he  plead  with  the  heiress,  for  Wyman  felt  now 
that  this  ambitious  marriage  would  be  the  long-needed 
sheet-anchor  of  his  stormy  life.  Society  rank  took  on  a 
new  value!  "Hiram  is  a  tower  of  strength,"  he 
thought.  General  Buford's  very  influence  in  London, 
in  California  society,  with  the  courts,  at  the  very  bank, 
the  Anglo-Calif ornian,  where  this  little  "  hitch  "  was  now 
so  awkward,  this  all-commanding  influence  was  his  only 
present  salvation!  His  impassioned,  pent-up  feelings 
pointed  the  glowing  eloquence  of  his  earnest  words.  He 
swept  Minnie  Buford's  heart  away.  He  was  no  laggard 
lover,  and  in  his  tender  vehemence,  he  once  only  forgot  his 
own  cardinal  rule,  "  not  to  mix  up  love  and  business." 

But,  the  fates  favored  him.  Minnie  Buford,  pale  and 
anaemic,  really  felt  the  reaction  of  his  ardent,  striving, 
virile  nature,  and  she  gasped  and  murmured,  "Well,  he's 
no  fool  anyway,  a  man  who  will  make  his  mark  in  the 
world,"  as  the  happy  Wyman  descended  the  stair  to  way- 
lay General  Hiram,  and  break  the  thing  to  him  gently, 
for,  she  had  whispered  "yes  "  to  his  prayer! 

"  It's  all  right,  mamma.  Fred  and  I,  understand  each 
other  perfectly,"  the  really  satisfied  girl  whispered  in  her 
awakened  excitement  of  nature,  as  she  twined  herself 
around  her  mother's  neck.  Wyman  was  a  strong,  dashing 
wooer,  and  she  fondly  fancied  he  was  "all  heart."  In 
which, the  acute  Miss  Buford  reckoned  without  her  host,  for, 
like  many  others  viewing  the  "  practical  business  man,"  she 
mistook  low  cunning  for  ability,  unscrupulous  greed  and 
untiring  trickery   for  enterprise,  sentimental  varnish  for 


324  MISS_  DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

honest  emotions,  and  because  the  man  was  alert,  practical 
and  active  in  his  own  interest,  invested  him  with  all  the 
attributes  of  superior,  manly  character  taken  upon  trust! 

Alas!  the  petted  heiress  was  not  the  only  woman  at 
home  or  abroad  destined  to  be  coldly  traded  upon  in 
Hymen's  courts,  and  to  be  grossly  deceived  in  her  own 
untrammeled  choice  of  a  husband,  "  either  for  use  or  orna- 
ment."    Life's  eternal  lottery! 

"I  hope  now,  that  papa  will  not  interpose  any  foolish 
objections,"  mused  Minnie,  as  she  watched  for  the  return- 
ing carriage  of  her  usually  indulgent  father.  ' '  He  never 
has  so  far  denied  me  anything,  it  is  true,"  she  ruminated, 
"and  I  presume  this  will  be  all  right."  She  had  been 
drawn  bodily  under  the  spell  of  Wyman's  exuberant 
vitality  and  attractive  manners.  He  had  well  been  taught 
to  please. 

It  was  all  right,  for  General  Hiram  Buford  was  in  a 
golden  good  humor  this  very  evening.  He  was  also  a  lit- 
tle startled  with  the  suddenness  of  Wyman's  "little  run 
home,"  as  he  expressed  it.  But,  he  had  most  cordially 
received  the  half  disclosure,  and  said  genially  to  his  ex- 
pectant son-in-law,  ' '  I'll  give  you  confidential  letters  to 
all  our  own  people,  and  they  will  take  you  in  to  the  inside 
ring,  at  once."  So,  the  golden  circle  opened  at  the  touch 
of  the  lucky  rascal! 

"There  goes  a  man  to  be  proud  of.  A  true,  self-made 
American,"  dilated  Buford,  as  he  engulf ed  two  extra  cock- 
tails, as  a  solemn  libation  beyond  his  allowance. 

Mr.  Wyman  added  one  more  to  his  unusual  stimulus 
of  the  excited  afternoon.  It  was  his  lucky  day,  and  the 
devil  whispered  to  him  to  "rush  things."  He  slipped 
away,  and  in  half  an  hour  a  neat  private  announcement  to 
the  "American  Register"  was  mailed,  which  contained 
the  cheering  news  that  ' '  A  matrimonial  alliance  had  been 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE.  3*25 

arranged  between  Miss  Minerva  Buford,  the  only  daughter 
of  General  Hiram  Buford,  the  great  San  Francisco  capi- 
talist, and  Mr.  Frederick  Wynian,  the  young  Nevada 
millionaire  whose  brilliant  management  of  the  'Lone 
Star'  mine,  had  proved  him  one  of  the  ablest  of  the 
Comstock  mining  kings.  The  nuptials,  in  the  early  au- 
tumn, would  be  followed  by  a  series  of  magnificent  enter- 
tainments in  honor  of  the  happy  pair,  at  General  Buford's 
Paris  and  London  mansions,  etc.,  etc." 

"Now,  that  will  pin  the  family  down  beyond  any  pos- 
sible withdrawal,"  said  Mr.  Wyman,  as  he  concluded  a 
careful  toilet  for  a  first  "dinner  en  famille,"  in  the 
capacity  of  accepted  lover. 

He  was  still  thrilling  with  the  unexpected  attack  in  the 
West.  ' '  I  must  slip  away  for  an  hour,  and  give  at  most 
ten  minutes  to  Milly  Hammond,  then,  I  will  see  Miss 
Gladys !"  His  face  grew  black  with  an  ugly  passing  scowl, 
for  the  happy  light  in  her  eyes  recalled  the  dangerous 
Jack  Otis,  in  his  self-betrayal.  "  By  God!  He  shall  never 
have  her.  She  is  niine,"  Wyman  exulted.  His  blood  was 
pulsing  with  the  pride  of  his  dashing  success.  "I  will 
separate  them  forever,"  growled  Wyman,  as  he  settled  his 
tie  and  went  down  to  lie  to  the  young  girl,  whom  he  loved 
"on  strictly  business  principles,"  for,  alia  lover's  light 
gleamed  in  his  eyes  as  he  bent  over  Miss  Minnie.  • 

When  his  hour's  grace  was  accorded,  the  lover  arranged 
to  meet  the  partie  de  famille  at  nine  o'clock,  and,  at  ten, 
General  Buford  and  himself  would  conclude  a  last  glimpse 
at  the  "  standing  orders "  for  the  vast  enterprise  of  the 
"Lone  Star"  deal. 

"Thank  God,  Buford  will  never  know  that  I  have 
forced  this  engagement  on,"  mused  Wyman,  as  he  rapidly 
arranged  in  his  mind  the  details  of  his  interview  with 
Mrs.  Milly  Hammond.      "  I  have  a  little  panacea  for  all 


326  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

her  woes,"  he  smiled,  for  he  had  taken  with  him,  his  pocket 
check-book.  "  And  after  all,  it's  the  only  happy  way  to  part 
in  such  an  intrigue,  quickly,  with  no  warning.  She  will  take 
care  of  herself  and  go  back  happily,  alone."  In  which, 
Frederick  Wyman,  Esq.,  also  was  a  poor  prophet,  for 
it  was  written  in  the  book  of  Fate  that  the  ' '  kind-hearted" 
General  Buford  should  "take  care"  of  Mrs.  Hammond, 
in  many  bright  future  days  to  come,  and  that  she  should 
return  ' '  to  her  home  "  in  San  Francisco,  nestling  tenderly 
"under  the  shadow  of  his  wing,"  but,  at  a  most  discreet 
distance  from  that  energetic  Juno,  Mrs.  Pauline  Buford. 
Cupid's  little  tricks  still  lead  lovers'  feet  as  far  astray  as  of 
old! 

"  Milly,  you  are  a  bright  and  manageable  darling.  The 
only  one  reasonable  woman  I  know,"  murmured  Wyman, 
as  in  his  heart  he  counted  the  moments  after  he  had  deftly 
"broken  the  ice,"  and,  arranged  Mrs.  Hammond's  affairs! 
She  bore  up  well,  singularly  well,  and  smiled  and  sighed. 
But,  the  happy  woman  insisted  on  "  breaking  the  ice"  also 
of  a  couple  of  bottles  of  champagne  frappe,  before  she 
would  release  her  departing  swain.  He  had  played  right 
into  her  hand.  The  cards  of  life  seemed  to  be  all  running 
her  way,  and  in  her  glee  at  the  surety  of  a  quiet  sojourn 
with  none  to  now  hamper  her  little  "  comedie  a  deux" 
with  Hiram  Buford,  she  was  expansive,  tenderly  touching 
and  loving,  loth  to  see  Wyman  go,  for  he  had  touched  the 
lost  chord,  with  his  check. 

"Listen!"  he  said  with  a  serious  air.  "My  sudden 
departure  must  not  in  any  way  hasten  your  return.  Stay 
here.  Get  up  your  new  wardrobe  leisurely,  and  write  me 
twice  a  week  to  my  home  address.  Tell  me  all  of  Gladys 
Lyndon's  new  triumphs,  and  if  I  wish  any  little  confidential 
matters  attended  to  here,  I  will  write  or  cable." 

"You are  so  good,  Fred,"  cried  Milly.     "Do  you  know 


THE    TUKN    OF   THE    TIDE.  327 

I  wish  to  see  a  little  of  London  before  I  go  home,  espe- 
cially as  Mrs.  Buford  has  now  grown  quite  civil  to  me." 
This  little  transformation  act  had  been  artfully  worked  by 
good  General  Buford,  who  desired  to  "confer  with  Mrs. 
Hammond  from  time  to  time,"  during  the  winter. 

"Well,  you  will  have  a  pleasant  London  season  then," 
slowly  rejoined  Wyman.  "They  will  entertain  hand- 
somely, and  both  the  ladies  are  to  be  presented."  Wyman 
was  studying  the  future  effect  upon  Mrs.  Hammond  of  the 
coining  news  of  his  engagement,  as  he  said  "good-bye"  in 
a  manner  which  called  up  the  conservatory  on  Van  Ness 
avenue.  » '  Ah !  She  is  too  game  a  woman  to  ever  annoy 
me,"  he  decided,  as  he  sadly  unwound  the  white  arms  of 
this  Briseis,  and  hastened  away  to  the  pension  where  Miss 
Gladys  Lyndon  lived  "  selon  les  regies." 

It  verged  on  being  late  and  he  hastened  the  fiacre  driver 
unduly.  The  warm  rooms,  the  insidious  gas-charged 
wines,  with  his  unwonted  oratorical  excitement  and  the 
many  confirmatory  cocktails  with  General  Buford,  aided  a 
revulsion  of  his  nerves,  for  the  strong  drink  of  the  after- 
noon now  smote  madly  upon  his  brain.  His  resentment 
against  the  unknown  assailants  of  his  interests  in  San 
Francisco,  his  dull,  burning  hatred  of  the  unasserted 
superiority  of  Mr.  Jack  Otis  returned,  and  he  was  in  a 
recklessly  bitter  mood  when  the  polite  servant  informed 
him  that  "Miss  Lyndon  begged  to  be  excused." 

In  his  stubborn  purpose,  quivering  under  the  hammers 
of  the  alcohol  beating  upon  his  brain,  with  an  unsteady 
hand  he  scrawled  upon  his  card  "Must  see  you  to-night; 
leave  for  California  in  the  morning;  important  to  you." 

Some  evil  genius  surely  hovered  over  the  pathway  of 
"  Nature's  nobleman "  that  night!  It  was  the  first  time 
that  he  had  ventured  to  force  himself  on  the  vestal  retire- 
ment of  the  girl  who  now  stood  before  him,  wondering  at 


328  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

his  flushed  face  and  hostile  eye.  It  was  the  turning  of  the 
tide,  a  crisis,  and,  he  was  not  sober.  Unaccustomed  to 
the  signs  of  social  dissipation,  the  budding  prima  donna 
was  secretly  alarmed.  Never  before  had  she  felt  her  help- 
lessness so  keenly.  Unused  to  the  reckless  ways  of  the 
insidious  world  around  her  she  was  not  skillful  enough  to 
prevent  a  tete-a-tete  by  bringing  a  dame  de  compagnie,  as 
garde  d'honneur.  She  recoiled  slightly  in  terror  as  he 
swayed  toward  her  with  unsteady  feet.  This  action  of 
simple  surprise  maddened  him. 

"You  haven't  a  word  for  me,  I  suppose?"  he  roughly 
broke  out.    "Now,  if  it  was  that  loafer,  Otis!  " 

The  splendid  woman  flashed  her  eyes  upon  him!  He 
paused  for  a  moment,  for,  it  was  a  frozen  Niobe  that  stood 
there  scornfully  regarding  him.  Her  heart  had  ceased 
beating  with  a  gasp  at  the  violence  of  the  direct  insult. 
Nature  broke  down  the  wall  of  her  ignorance,  and  she  loathed 
his  leering,  handsome  face.  She  essayed  to  pass  him,  but 
his  keen  intelligence  now  told  him  that  he  had  lost  forever 
the  game  of  a  life.  Her  conquest  was  now  impossible. 
He  seized  her  by  the  wrist. 

' '  None  of  your  tragedy  queen  airs  with  me,  my  pauper 
beauty.  I'm  not  fool  enough  to  set  a  jewel  for  others  to 
wear.  I'll  stop  your  letter  of  credit,  and  then,  your  face 
will  be  your  fortune,"  he  raved.  But,  as  he  looked  around 
uneasily  to  see  where  the  whip-lash  voice  came  from,  the  ex- 
cited libertine  felt  that  he  was  alone.  Flying  footsteps 
sounding  on  the  stair,  the  rustling  of  a  robe,  above  echoed 
for  the  last  time  on  his  ears,  in  which  rang  still  her 
one  indignant  cry :  « '  Coward ! " 

It  was  all  over,  forever!  Wyman  struggled  stupidly 
out  of  the  house,  and  passing,  all  unnoticed,  the  surprised 
servant  who  heard  the  loud  sounds  of  a  railing  voice,  he 
passed  on  into    the  cool  night  air  which    partly  sobered 


THE   TURN    OF   THE    TIDE.  320 

him.  "  I  will  ruin  her.  I  will  drive  her  out  of  Paris!" 
he  viciously  swore.  "  All  that  I  have  to  do,  is  to  give 
Milly  Hammond  a  hint  to  drop  a  word  in  general  society, 
here  and  there,  as  to  how  this  prude  came  over  here."  He 
laughed  brutally.  ' '  Then  she  can  play  her  little  game  of 
life,  lone-handed." 

It  was  only  with  a  supreme  effort  of  will  that  he  con- 
trolled himself  by  the  thought  of  the  final  conference  with 
General  Buford,  for  he  felt  he  had  faced  a  miserable 
Waterloo.  The  driver,  taken  into  counsel,  suggested  a 
brief  visit  to  a  neighboring  restaurant  cafe. .  A  few 
moments  in  care  of  the  head  waiter,  a  snuffing  up  of  a  few 
whiffs  of  absinthe,  and  the  cooling  draughts  of  some  art- 
fully prepared  lemon  juice  and  iced  seltzer  with  some 
decorative  attentions,  prepared  him  to  trundle  slowly  down 
to  the  Grand  Hotel. 

He  but  dimly  realized  the  disaster  of  his  intrusion  upon 
Miss  Lyndon.  The  plea  of  weariness  sufficed  to  blind 
General  Buford,  who  promptly  agreed  to  forward  all  needed 
papers  by  the  next  mail. 

"  Nothing  is  wrong  with  you  in  California,  my  dear 
boy?"  that  sturdy  old  millionaire  queried. 

1  *  Not  a  thing.  I  must  go  home  and  watch  some  busi- 
ness a  little.  Only  some  of  my  outside  investments.  All 
is  straight  as  a  string,"  replied  Wyman,  but  Gladys 
Lyndon's  scornful  eyes  followed  his  unsteady  step.  The 
word  " coward"  rang  on  his  ears.  "Ah!  "Wait,  wait,"  he 
hissed. 

In  the  solitude  of  his  room,  he  threw  himself  with  aching 
head  upon  his  couch.  Still  rang  in  his  ears  that  word,  « '  cow- 
ard," and,  gloomy  sprites  watched  over  the  tossing  sleep  of 
the  bridegroom  to  be.  "I  was  a  fool  to  go  at  her  so  rough- 
ly," he  babbled.  "  It's  too  late  now,"  and  he  fell  away  into 
a  wild  melody  of  dreams.     He  was  still  wrestling  with  the 


330  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

grim  demons  of  the  night  when  his  provisional  valet 
roused  him  by  "shaking  him  thoroughly." 

"Six  o'clock,  sir.  You've  been  going  on  and  crying 
out  loudly,  and  I  have  been  watching  you  an  hour," 
the  frightened  man  cried,  for  among  the  phantoms  called 
up  by  the  "unloosening  process"  of  his  sharp  indulgence 
in  drink,  the  pale  shades  of  Robert  Devereux  and  Steve 
Berard  had  recalled  a  name  forgotten  for  years,  "The 
Mariquita. "  The  defeated  libertine,  shuddered  and  growled, 
"What  devil  has  emptied  their  graves?  My  sleeping 
partners ! " 

"  Get  me  in  good  shape  at  once.  Ring  up  some  break- 
fast," ordered  Wyman,  who  also  applied  "  the  hair  of  the 
same  dog,"  with  more  or  less  satisfactory  effects. 

"You  told  me  to  remind  you  about  my  orders  for 
Morani  in  London,  moreover,  a  ring  you  spoke  of,  be- 
sides," the  valet  proceeded.  His  past  experience  in  "high 
life"  made  him  au  fait  in  the  "Grande  Lever"  of  a 
fashionable  man.  And,  the  word  "  coward  "  was  buzzing 
still  in  Wyman's  ears  as  the  insulted  orphan's  legacy  of 
shame. 

When  Wyman  was  ready  for  the  business  of  the  early 
morning,  he  surveyed  himself  in  the  glass  with  a  severely 
condemnatory  glance.  Gazing  moodily  out  of  the  window 
in  the  dispiriting  sloppy  hour  of  the  early  morning,  he 
vigorously  exclaimed,  "I  made  a  damned  fool  of  myself 
last  night! "  which  verdict  was  applicable  to  the  severance 
of  his  present  relations  with  the  child  of  song  and,  also,  to 
the  colossal  folly  of  forcing  his  way  against  her  will  into 
the  pension,  at  so  late  an  hour.  "That  jig  is  up,"  he 
moodily  cried,  ' '  but,  I  will  break  her  heart  and  drive  her 
out  of  Paris." 

His  few  remaining  hours  were  devoted  to  a  studied 
adieu  to  the  girl  whose  promised  hand  was  now  his  only 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE.  331 

safeguard,  and  to  her  mother.  This  haughty  lady  was 
delighted  at  Wyman's  private  commission  to  purchase,  and 
transmit  at  once  to  her  daughter,  a  diamond  engagement 
ring,  which  would  have  been  colossal  if  quality  did  not 
temper  its  luck,  for  the  check  entrusted  to  Mrs.  Buford 
was  indicative  of  royal  tastes.  "I  will  have  Minnie,  at 
any  rate,  sure  and  fast,"  he  swore.  A  happy  thought  was 
the  provision  for  a  daily  offering  of  magnificent  flowers. 
The  arrangements  for  cabling  and  mail  transmission  also 
were  imparted,  as  a  trust  of  love,  to  Mrs.  Buford.  The 
capitalist  could  hardly  endure  the  half  hour  passed  in 
bright  dreams  of  the  coming  time  with  the  girl  who 
seemed  to  have  stepped  up  on  a  pedestal  of  authoritative 
dignity  over  night. 

In  a  mad  desire  to  embark,  before  the  news  of  the  unto- 
ward stoppage  of  the  < '  Lone  Star  "  negotiation  could  reach 
Buford,  Wyman  threw  himself  into  a  studied  play  which 
exhausted  every  fibre,  and  as  he  turned  and  saw  her 
fluttering  handkerchief,  a  good-bye,  love's  last  signal,  he 
heard  a  ringing  voice  cry  again,  "Coward!  " 

"Thank  God!  I've  seen  the  last  of  them,  for  some  time 
at  least ! "  growled  Wyman,  as  he  settled  himself  in  the 
Havre  train.  "I  can  fix  up  Morani's  orders  and  get  rid  of 
this  fellow.  Then,  for  a  good  rest  at  sea  and  vengeance  on 
these  blackmailing  scoundrels  at  San  Francisco.  May 
the  fiends  hold  off  till  I  reach  home;  then  war  to  the 
knife."  With  a  bitter  malignity,  he  had  mailed  a  curt 
note  to  the  Paris  bankers,  stopping  the  balance  of  Miss 
Lyndon's  credit,  and  had  cabled  the  New  York  bankers  to 
the  same  effect.  ' '  Let  this  pearl  of  virtue  now  try  the  shady 
side  of  the  street,"  he  sneered,    "I  have  done  with  her!  " 

As  "La  Bretagne  "  drew  out  of  the  harbor,  he  hurled  an 
imprecation  in  the  direction  of  the  supposed  locality  of 
Miss  Gladys  Lyndon,  and  his   hearty  objurgation  particu- 


332  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

larly  included  Mr.  Jack  Otis.  "  Milly  Hammond  will 
drop  a  bit  of  acid  here  and  there,  which  will  eat  a  hole  or 
two  in  "My  Lady's  spotless  robe,"  he  viciously  laughed. 
"I  think  I  can  see  the  pauper  as  she  gets  the  news  of  that 
money  stoppage." 

But,  with  all  the  power  to  punish  and  to  follow  the 
friendless  girl,  whose  innocence  had  persistently  foiled  his 
insinuating  insults,  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman,  the  epitome  of 
Nature's  noblemen,  started  in  sudden  alarm  more  than 
once  on  the  steamer's  deck,  for  the  word  "coward"  seemed 
still  to  hiss  in  his  ears,  in  the  swish  of  the  salt  sea  waves 
and  the  hoarse  whisper  of  the  unfriendly  winds.  "There 
is  some  turn  of  the  tide  in  this,"  he  finally  decided.  "I 
was  always  lucky  with  women,  and  I  always  found  them 
alike,  all  easy  to  handle  before!  " 

Nemesis  was  shadowing  him! 

Waldo  Strong,  counselor-at-law,  chafed  inwardly  as  he 
was  swiftly  borne  away  from  the  town  of  Truckee  on  his 
return  voyage  to  San  Francisco,  to  answer  the  imperative 
call  of  his  most  influential  clientele,  the  directors  of  the 
Anglo-Californian  bank.  In  the  half  hour  allotted  for  a 
hasty  meal,  at  the  boundary  line  town,  he  engaged  the 
landlord  of  the  hotel  in  conversation.  A  cigar  and  a  prof- 
fered cocktail  sufficed  to  loosen  the  reminiscent  frontier 
Boniface's  memory. 

Waldo  Strong  had  a  neat  little  pocket  note-book,  full  of 
notes  in  a  certain  secret  system  of  private  notation,  which 
was  the  triumph  of  hours  of  leisure.  The  notary's  name, 
the  man  of  many  functions,  occupied  a  place  therein.  He 
had  found  it,  on  the  main  deed  of  the  "Mariquita  mine." 
It  was  in  consonance  with  that  useful  citizen's  varied 
functions  and  many  occupations,  that  he  was  now  absent 
upon  a  grizzly  bear  hunt,  for  time  hung  heavy  on  the 
hands  of  the  forest-girdled  citizens  of  Truckee. 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE.  333 

"You  see,  squire,"  said  the  landlord,  "  the  boys  get  sort 
of  tired  of  laying  around  here,  and  drinking  whisky  and 
playing  California  Jack.  They  do  punish  a  power  of 
whisky,  and,  they  won't  work.  So  they  have  their  little 
hunting  and  fishing  trips.  He's  the  very  same  man.  Been 
Notary  Public  here  goin'  on  fifteen  years.  He  writes  a 
splendid  hand,  when  he  ain't  drunk,"  the  cautious  hotel 
keeper  said,  hedging  a  bit. 

"Well,  I'll  run  up  and  see  you  some  time.  I'm  a 
fisherman  myself,"  pleasantly  rejoined  the  counselor,  as 
he  sought  the  train.  "I'll  call  up  some  of  his  old  friends, 
perhaps."  And,  as  the  train  swung  along  over  the  Sierras, 
the  lawyer's  brain  was  busied  in  algebraic  exhaustions 
of  every  possible  solution  of  the  puzzling  case.  "These 
fellows  had  some  motive  in  their  long  association,"  he 
ruminated.      "It  all  hinges  upon  Robert  Devereux!" 

In  furtherance  of  his  little  private  scheme,  he  indited  a 
neat  advertisement,  which  ornamented,  for  several  weeks, 
the  principal  journals  of  California  and  Nevada.  It  was 
attractive  in  its  appearance.  It  promised  to  some  stranger 
a  share  of  fortune's  favors: 

WANTED-INFORMATION  OF  THE  DEATH  OF 
Robert  Devereux,  who  left  Virginia  City,  Nevada, 
in  1864.  His  legal  heirs  will  hear  of  something  greatly  to 
their  advantage,  by  addressing  X.  Y.  Z.,  Lock  Box,  2901, 
San  Francisco,  Cal. 

A  liberal  reward  for  the  information  desired.     . 

"That  will  do  the  business,"  confidently  murmured 
Strong.  "  Somebody  always  turns  up,  if  there  is  any 
property  to  be  handed  over.  I  think  I  will  obtain  photo- 
graphs of  Messrs.  Hooper,  Bowen,  and  Mr.  Frederick  Wy- 
man.  The  notary  may  have  been  sober  enough  to  re- 
member this  affair."  And,  Strong  was  impressed  with  the 
mysterious  current  of  fate  which  seemed  to  float  the 
' '  Lone  Star ' '  property,  the  source  of  his  ruin,  back  to 
him,  on  a  refluent  eddy  of  professional  work. 


334  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

With  no  waste  of  time,  after  a  brief  visit  to  his  office, 
he  proceeded  to  hunt  up  the  associate  manager  of  the 
bank,  whom  he  found  at  his  club.  Suspecting  the  presence 
of  the  expert,  in  a  man  of  Anglican  outward  seeming, 
Strong  merely  passed  on  into  the  card  room,  with  a  nod. 
In  a  few  moments,  the  manager  joined  him. 

"That's  the  very  man  you  have  to  avoid.  I  do  not 
want  him  to  know  of  your  present  employment.  Slip  out 
and  go  over  to  your  office.  I  will  have  some  friends  tell 
him  'bear  and  Indian'  stories, with  a  few  'lynchings  and 
murders'  thrown  in,  till  we  have  a  quiet  hour."  This  feat 
was  successfully  performed,  to  the  horror  of  the  scientist! 
In  the  security  of  Strong's  office,  the  banker  at  ease, 
with  cigar,  and  stowed  away  in  Strong's  best  leather  chair, 
relieved  his  mind. 

"It  flashed  over  me  when  this  thing  came  to  us,  that 
we  might  easily  recoup  some  of  those  Hooper  losses  here. 
We  have  been  censured,  as  usual,  from  the  home  office. 
They  never  do  censure  us  if  we  make  an  extra  two  per  cent, 
annual  dividend,  but,  I  am  tired  of  hearing  of  Hooper, 
Hooper,  Hooper.  Now,  I  give  you  a  free  hand.  I'll  have 
all  the  papers  and  detail  work  carried  on  by  our  usual 
counsel.  In  this  thing,  I  give  you  carte  blanche  and  full 
power.  It  would  be  a  personal  satisfaction  to  me,  to  stop 
off  this  fellow  Wyman  here,  for,  I  think  he  has  used,  and 
then  screened,  Hooper;  probably,  Bo  wen  and  himself  are 
feeding  Hooper  along  with  money  and  intelligence  now. 
I  wonder  where  he  fled  to.  If  we  could  only  compromise 
with  him! 

"  Where's  Wyman?  "  shortly  asked  Strong. 

"  Oh!  he's  still  in  Paris,  and  by  the  way,  Du  Barry  of 
the  French  bank  tells  me  he  is  flourishing  around  there 
with  Mrs.  Hammond,  you  know,"  and  the  two  men  smiled 
gently,  an  easy  smile  to  understand.  The  way  of  the 
world;  always  the  same! 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE.  335 

Counselor  Strong's  face  was  as  merciless  as  that  of  a 
duelist  a  la  barriere,  when  he  said: 

"Post  your  expert  to  take  it  easy  here  a  month.  Send 
him  around  to  all  the  show  places,  the  Almaden,  and  all 
around  the  State.  I  want  to  have  just  a  week  to  go  back 
to  Virginia  with  the  new  light  of  these  papers,  and  their 
own  showing.  Let  your  counsel  come  over  here  and  see  me. 
He  might  blunder  in  and  meet  me.  If  Wyrnan  knew  that 
I  was  in  this  matter,  he  would  build  up  new  forts  inside  of 
his  present  lines.  I'll  catch  him  for  you,  and  perhaps 
get  hold  of  Hooper,  too.  I'll  not  spare  your  money,  don't 
you  fear.  I'll  send  for  you,  or  come  into  your  private  bank 
office  when  I  wish  to  see  you.  We  must  be  strangers  on 
this  business,  and  let  no  one  in  the  bank  know.  We  will 
trap  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  yet,  I  swear  it." 

"  All  right,  counselor,  trap  the  scoundrels,  and  I'll  add 
a  private  fee,  to  the  professional  one.  By  the  way,  lay  it 
on  well.  The  Wyman  syndicate  will  pay  all  preliminaries; 
so,  your  enemy  furnishes  the  sauce  for  his  own  roast- 
ing." 

Waldo  Strong  smiled  a  grim  smile,  as  he  dismissed  the 
banker  at  the  door.  With  the  energy  of  desperation,  he 
toiled  night  after  night  at  the  papers  until  he  had  mas- 
tered Mr.  Wyman's  London  scheme  in  every  detail.  He 
sprang  up  in  precipitation  as  his  friend,  Inspector  Stan- 
ton, noisily  rapped  at  his  office  door  a  week  after  his  re- 
turn. It  was  during  one  of  the  night  seances,  for  his  daily 
office  practice  was  increasing.  The  tide  had  turned  his  way. 
His  nerves  were  in  a  state  of  strange  thrill,  which  recalled 
the  night  when  the  winds  had  whispered  "  murder"  to 
him,  there  alone  on  the  Comstock,  with  the  lone  star 
hanging  above  him,  and  the  Mariquita  mine  stretched  out 
there  below.  He  was  now  awaiting  the  coming  days 
when  he  might  receive  an  answering  cablegram  from  Paris, 


336  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

for  a  busy  fiend  whispered  in  his  heart  that  Gladys  Lyn- 
don was  in  Paris,  in  the  toils  of  Mrs.  Milly  Hammond, 
and  Wyman,  his  enemy,  was  in  Paris,  too.  "What would 
she  not  do  for  money?"  the  agonized  suitor  thought,  as  he 
remembered  the  society  woman's  record,  and  he  cursed  the 
day  when  he  had  allowed  the  pure-browed  girl  to  be  swept 
out  of  his  life  without  warning  her. 

"  She  might  have  shared  my  misfortunes.  She  might 
have  waited  for  these  brighter  days,"  he  mourned  in  his 
sorrow,  and  then,  too  late,  he  remembered  that  he  had  not 
trusted  her  womanhood  far  enough,  to  ask  her  to  be  his 
wife,  to  make  his  heart  known.  "Have  I,  like  the  base 
Judean,  thrown  a  pearl  away?"  he  groaned.  It  was  almost 
hopeless,  but,  to  a  visiting  legai  friend  he  had  indited  this 
commission  of  the  heart.  "If  she  is  in  Paris,  Eldridge 
will  surely  find  it  out  and  cable,"  he  reflected,  as  he  bent 
his  brows  over  the  paper.  "The  tide  has  turned  my  way 
now.  I  may  win  her  yet,"  he  thought,  and  it  was  the 
hope  of  offering  her  a  new  fortune  and  his  life,  that  he 
sternly  toiled  away. 

Stanton  laughed  as  he  received  the  chilly  Avelcome  of 
the  busied  lawyer.  "  Come  now,  Waldo,"  he  good- 
humoredly  said,  "  Give  me  ten  minutes,  and  you'll  not  re- 
gret it.  I  come  to  do  you  a  favor."  Strong's  brow  cleared, 
and  he  swept  the  papers  all  into  a  drawer. 

"All  right,"  he  cried,  offering  the  officer  an  open 
box    of   cigars. 

"  By  the  by,"  smiled  Stanton,  "what  does  that  mean?" 
said  the  inspector,  handing  the  astonished  lawyer  the 
Devereux  advertisement. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  know  I  was  behind  this?"  cried 
the  mystified  lawyer. 

"  For  this,  are  we  inspectors,"  laughed  Stanton.  < <  Well, 
hand  oyer  your  money,  for,  I  saw  this  Mr.  Robert  Dever- 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE.  33*7 

eux  murdered,  myself."  Strong  bounded  up  from  his 
chair.     His  hand  gripped  Stanton's  sinewy  arm. 

" You!  you!"  he  gasped.  "Where?  When?  Tell  me 
all."  And,  awed  by  Strong's  excited  state  of  mind, the  in- 
spector lit  a  cigar,  and  simply  narrated  the  scene  at  the  Cross 
Roads,  where  the  Mormon  rancher,  Holman,  saw  the  last 
gasp  of  the  owner  of  the  Mariquita,  weltering  in  his  blood 
on  the  bar-room  floor.  Strong's  hands  covered  his  face, 
and  his  frame  shook  with  strong  emotion. 

Without  raising  his  head,  the  lawyer  asked  question 
after  question.  The  description  of  the  dead  man,  the 
scene,  all  the  details,  the  fate  of  the  slayer,  and  even  the 
ghastly  surroundings  of  the  unavenged  crime.  * '  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  what  became  of  the  man  who  murdered  him?" 
finally  asked  the  lawyer. 

"Oh!  yes,  I  went  up  every  three  months  then,  till 
Nevada  became  a  State.  This  man,  a  notorious  gambler, 
was  shot  by  the  <  101,'  Committee  of  Regulators,  in  the 
clearing  out  of  the  roughs.  Strange  to  say,  he  left  a  good 
deal  of  unclaimed  property." 

"And  Devereux,  the  murdered  man,  what  of  his  friends, 
his  body?"  said  Strong,  quivering  now  with  excitement. 
Stanton  consulted  an  old  pocket  note-book. 

"I  was  told  by  the  station  keeper  at  the  Cross  Roads 
that  his  widow  in  San  Francisco  wrote  some  very  touching 
letters,  and  spoke  of  his  little  fatherless  girl.  All  these 
letters  were  later  turned  over  to  Holman,  the  Mormon 
bishop,  who  was  the  magistrate  there.  He  went  off  to  Salt 
Lake  later,  and  he's  now  dead.  I  was  ordered  to  investi- 
gate the  fate  of  Devereux's  letters,  and  all  the  mail  sent 
to  Virginia  City,  and  I  even  wrote  on  to  Bishop  Holman, 
for  so  he  bloomed  out  at  Salt  Lake  later.  He  was  only 
Elder  Holman  then.  He  wrote  me  very  civilly,  that  he  had 
turned  all  over  to  his  successor  as  justice  of  the  peace.     I 


338  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

find  I  wrote  also  to  him.  He  died  suddenly,  shot  also  in 
a  drunken  row.  All  the  archives  and  things  were  lost." 
The  lawyer  sighed  as  he  finished  the  notes  he  had  made, 
for  now,  he  was  keenly  at  work.  His  open  memorandum 
book  lay  beside  him. 

"And,  you  say  it  was  in  the  spring  of  1865  when  this  man 
was  murdered?  "  mechanically  repeated  Strong,  following 
his  own  notes. 

"  I  did  not!  "  energetically  answered  Inspector  Stanton. 
"  I  said  the  spring  of  1864,"  he  replied,  turning  over  his 
notes.  "I  did  not  go  up  there  after  1864,  when  the  State 
was  admitted.  I  have  all  the  notes  and  dates  here.  I  am 
surely  correct." 

"  Give  me  that  book!  Let  me  see  it!"  shouted  Strong, 
as  he  eagerly  grasped  the  old  memorandum  book.  Stanton 
gazed  kindly  at  his  friend. 

"Waldo,  you  are  really  killing  yourself  with  overwork. 
This  thing  has  got  to  stop." 

"Tell  me  all  that  over  again.  Briefly,  only  what  you 
can  prove  and  swear  to,"  solemnly  said  the  lawyer.  "I 
will  explain  later."  When  Stanton  had  finished,  Strong 
gazed  earnestly  in  his  eyes.  "Are  there  any  men  up  there 
now  who  saw  that  murder?  "  Strong  demanded.  "  I  only 
want  the  time  fixed." 

"  Oh  yes!  I  passed  through  this  year.  The  store-keeper 
is  still  there,  and  his  old  clerk  is  his  partner  now.  The  bar- 
keeper, too,  has  a  store  of  his  own.  I  talked  with  all  of 
them,  for  I  pitied  the  poor  widow  whom,  by  the  way,  I 
learned  from  the  records  of  the  Postoffice,  is  now  dead. 
Her  official  letters  from  us  were  returned  from  the  City 
and  County  Hospital  marked  'Dead.'"  Strong's  eyes 
were  filled  with  tears. 

"And,  the  gu'l?" 

"'Sent  to  some  asylum.  Could  not  be  found  later.' 
That  was  the  carrier's  report." 


THE    TURN    OP    THE    TIDE.  339 

"  I  shall  not  leave  you  then,  Stanton! "  cried  Strong, 
"  not  lose  you  from  my  sight,  till  I  have  your  deposition, 
and  I'll  go  up  to  Willows  and  see  those  men." 

"Why  so?"  eagerly  demanded  Stanton,  who  saw  Strong 
quivering  with  an  unwonted  thrill  of  mental  repression. 

"Because!  "  cried  Strong,  as  he  sprang  up  and  smote 
the  desk  a  mighty  blow  with  his  fist,  "that  scoundrel  and 
murderer  Wyman  recorded  a  deed  of  Devereux's  priceless 
mine,  the  '  Mariquita,'  made  six  months  after  he  was  cold 
and  under  the  sod.  The  stolen  mine  has  made  him  a  mill- 
ionaire, and,  that  wandering  orphan  girl  (if  alive)  is  '  Miss 
Devereux  of  the  Marquita '  and  a  millionairess.  He  is  an 
arch  villain." 

"By  God!  you  astound  me!"  eagerly  shouted  Stanton, 
catching  the  excitement  •  of  the  dark  mystery;  but  who 
signed  the  forged  deed?" 

"That  is  what  I  am  going  to  find  out,"  cried  Waldo 
Strong,  as  he  wiped  the  beads  of  moisture  from  his  brow. 
"I  know  who  recorded  it,"  he  grimly  cried,  and,  before 
the  two  men  sought  their  pillows  a  new  light  had  dawned 
upon  the  "deep  damnation  of  the  taking  off  "  of  the  in- 
valid of  Holman's  Ranch.  Robert  Devereux  had  clearly 
been  trapped  to  his  death,  and  killed  for  the  mine ! 

On  his  way  home, Waldo  Strong  paused  before  the  huge 
black  mass  of  the  old  Cathedral  church  whose  deep -toned 
bell  boomed  out  "two,"  on  the  chilly  air.  He  saw  again 
the  four  crosses,  glimmering  sharp  cut,  agains4  the  sky. 
"  '  Vengeance  is  mine.  I  will  repay, '  saith  the  Lord,"  he 
gravely  said  as  he  bared  his  head,  and  added:  "God  help 
you,  Frederick  Wyman,  your  time  has  come!  " 

On  the  morning  of  Mr.  Wyman's  flitting  from  Paris, 
Gladys  Lyndon  was  awake  long  ere  that  time  when  "  the 
casement  slowly  grows  a  glimmering  square."  Her  pillows 
were  wet  with  the  bitter  tears  of  dependence,  and  a  woman's 
keenest   sorrows,  for  the  mask  thus  off  at  last,  the  silver 


340  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

veil  was  lifted.  The  "  generosity "  of  Wyman  stood  re- 
vealed in  its  hideously  loathsome  light!  She  knew,  at  last, 
the  galling  chain  which  binds  debt  and  its  humiliations. 
She  felt  the  meshes  of  her  dark  net  closing  around  her. 

As  the  cold,  gray  morning  lit  up  the  weary  surround- 
ings, the  first  hours  of  her  awakening  were  bitter  indeed. 
Seated  in  her  cheerless  room,  gazing  into  the  fireless  grate, 
she  saw  the  ashes  of  her  life,  the  death  of  her  fondest 
hopes  in  the  blackened  embers  there.  All  the  gross  fa- 
miliarities of  Wyman's  later  visits  burned  in  her  heart 
as  a  hideous  memory.  The  beautiful  pure  brows  were 
drawn  into  the  sad  lines  of  the  sorrows  which  rend,  but 
her  young  life  bounded  indignantly  in  the  pulsing  veins  of 
womanly  pride.  She  thought  over  the  consequences  of 
the  night's  occurrence.  "  I  can  never  see  him  again,"  she 
murmured,  and  her  white  hands  were  clenched  in  her 
flowing  golden  hair,  as  she  paced  the  room  in  her  lonely 
grief.  Her  eyes  rested  on  the  river,  cold  and  menacing  in 
its  muddy  flow  between  rock-built  walls.  "Better  that, 
better  the  oblivion  of  Pere  la  Chaise,  than  life  under  the 
domination  of  this  vile  brute. "  And,  a  strange  uncanny 
feeling  crept  into  her  heart  in  thinking  of  the  flowery  path 
along  which  Milly  Hammond  had  so  gently  guided  her. 
"  False  too!  His  tool!  His  instrument!  No!  "  she  warmly 
cried.  "No  woman's  heart  could  be  flinty  enough  to 
trap  an  orphaned  girl  to  shame.  But  away,  away!  I  must 
leave  Parts.     And  how?" 

She  knew  she  dared  not  unfold  the  truth  which  shames  to 
Mrs.  Hammond,  the  pet  of  fortune,  a  butterfly  of  a  golden 
life  which  she  had  only  gazed  at  in  its  glow  on  the  oc- 
casion of  her  musical  appearance.  "  I  dare  not  trust  her; 
I  will  not  tell  her,"  she  cried. 

"Alone!  My  God!  How  sadly  alone!  No  one  to  advise, 
no  one  to  help."  And,  as  she  saw  her  own  tell-tale  face 
in  the  mirror,  she  turned  away,  for  blushes  there  told  of  a 


the  turn  of  the  tide.  341 

glowing  life  hidden  there  in  her  chilly  bosom.  { '  Otis ! " 
His  words  of  pride  and  tender  cheering  encomium,  re- 
turned. "  If  he  were  only  my  brother."  And  yet,  bowed 
in  her  sorrows  those  very  blushes  told  her  she  would  not 
have  it  so!  When  her  morning  coffee  was  finished,  one 
practical  thought  filled  her  mind.  "This  Mrs.  Buford  is 
a  millionairess — a  representative  California  lady.  She 
will  soon  open  her  house  in  London.  I  must  leave  here. 
The  bread  I  would  owe  to  him,"  she  dared  not  speak  the 
name,  "would  be  daily  poison.  I  will  leave  here  at  once, 
quietly.  I  will  see  this  great  lady.  She  may  help  me  to 
obtain  some  pupils  in  London.  I  might  even  sing  in 
parlors." 

And  yet,  in  the  silence  of  the  room  where  her  loveliness 
and  loneliness  reigned  as  twin  queens,  she  felt  the  slender 
reed  on  which  she  leaned  now  bend  beneath  her.  She 
dropped  her  tired  head  upon  her  relaxed  arms  as  she 
thought  with  horror  of  the  two  thousand  dollars  she  had 
already  drawn  of  the  letter  of  credit,  for  the  thrifty 
rules  of  the  Parisian  "  musical  institution"  had  demanded 
six  months  in  advance.  A  feAv  hundred  dollars  of  this 
borrowed  money  remained  yet  in  her  possession.  "Ah! 
My  God!  How  shall  I  lift  this  debt?  The  badge  of 
shame,  for  he — he — may  say — ."  And  then,  there  was  no. 
sound  in  the  lonely  room  but  the  sobs  which  marked  the 
agony  of  her  bright  brave  heart,  now  humbled  to  the  very 
earth.  And  the  stricken  woman  prayed  to  the  God  of  the 
orphan! 

As  the  hours  dragged  on,  Gladys  Lyndon  sat  awating 
the  time  when  she  could  approach  the  Californian  million- 
airess. Her  senses  were  benumbed.  Already,  she  had  ex- 
perienced many  varied  ingenious  assaults  upon  her  privacy 
by  the  light-hearted  Gallic  flaneurs  of  the  streets.  In 
vain,  the  plainest  dress  and  severest  mien,  shadowed  her 
sparkling  beauty.     She  was  too  fatally  brilliant  for  the 


342  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQTJITA. 

repose  of  womanly  plainness,  and  the  hunter  had 
brought  her  to  bay  at  last  in  her  own  home.  ' '  Are  they 
all  the  same?"  she  wearily  guessed,  as  she  mechanically 
received  the  letters  held  out  by  the  wondering  servant. 

There  was  one  which  spurred  her  to  instant  action.  It 
was  a  curt  note  from  the  banker,  announcing  that  any 
further  drafts  on  letter  of  credit  No.  108§  of  their  New 
York  house  would  be  dishonored.  "He  is  an  exact 
and  prompt  business  man!"  the  girl  exclaimed,  and  her 
soul  rose  in  the  mad  revolt  of  an  outraged  womanhood. 
The  letter  fell  at  her  feet,  and  her  eyes  followed  listlessly 
the  lines  of  the  next,  but  it  brought  back  white-winged 
hope  to  the  sealed  portals  of  her  dark  heart.  It  was  a 
pleasant  request  from  Mrs.  Pauline  Buford,  to  call  at  once 
at  her  residence,  at  two  o'clock.  "I  wish  you  to  sing  at 
my  first  reception,  and  so,  pray  do  not  disappoint  me." 

<  <  I  will  tell  her  of  my  needs.  I  will  throw  myself  on 
her  mother  heart.  She,  at  least,  is  not  a  fashionable 
automaton!  She  has  a  child.  There  must  be  some  wom- 
anly blood  in  her  veins.      She  is  abo^ ~  all  meanness." 

The  dreaming  girl  sat  arranging  her  plans  for  the  proper 
explanation  of  her  changed  plans.  Too  well  she  knew 
that  all  a  woman's  movements,  (when  unprotected),  have  a 
peculiar  interest,  for  the  casual  and  most  critical  observer. 
A  knock  at  her  door  was  the  precursor  to  a  card. 

'  <  The  gentleman  is  awaiting  you  in  the  parlor,  madem- 
oiselle, "  was  the  servant's  announcement,  and  wonder- 
ment  filled  her  eyes  as  she  read, 


ERNEST    THOMAS, 

DIRECTOR, 
ALBERT     HALL     CONCERTS, 

LONDON. 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE.  343 

"A  stranger  for  me,  on  business!  "  Her  heart  was  beat- 
ing wildly,  as  she  entered  the  salon  below,  and  her  spirits 
were  lightened  as  a  bright,  bustling,  cheery  man  of  middle 
age  possessed  himself  of  her  two  hands. 

"  You  don't  know  me,  I  am  sure  you  do  not;  but  I  hope 
you  will  know  me  very  soon,  my  dear  young  lady!"  cried 
the  English  impresario.  "  I  will  be  brief,  for  I  am  a  man 
of  business,  and  always,  come  directly  to  my  point.  I 
came  on  to  Paris  for  a  soloist.  I  have  been,  most  griev- 
ously disappointed  in  one  or  two  persons, whose  voices  I 
heard  last  year.  Now,  Mario  tells  me  that  you  are  the 
only  one  he  knows  who  has  had  any  previous  experience. 
He  has  promised  me  to  speak  to  you  after  your  lesson  of 
to-day.  I  am  in  an  awful  hole.  Help  me,  I  beg  of  you. 
When  our  four  months'  season  is  over,  you  could  return. 
What  do  you  say  to  the  idea?     You'll  like  London." 

The  breathless  impressario  paused,  as  Gladys  Lyndon 
sank  into  a  chair,  overcome  with  her  excitement.  Here  was 
a  possible  avenue  of  escape!  Fate  seemed  to  open  a  door; 
but,  the  girl  had  no  time  to  reflect.  The  busy  man  bent 
his  bushy  brows,  and  with  gleaming,  kindly  eyes  said,  "I'll 
be  very  frank  with  you.  Walsingham  of  our  Embassy 
heard  you  sing  at  the  American  minister's  yesterday. 
Nature  made  him  a  musician!  Ah!  an  untoward  fate 
dooms  him  to  a  future  peerage,  and  a  huge  fortune.  An 
artist  spoiled!  I  am  acting  entirely  on  his  dictum;"  and 
as  Thomas  danced  about  her  genially,  he  exclaimed,  "You 
have  the  classic  personality  for  high  grade  concerts! 
Bless  you!  It's  a  great  career !  "  and,  Gladys  timidly  in- 
terrupted a  catalogue  of  all  the  royalties  and  nobility  who 
were  patrons  of  these  same  high  grade  festivals  of  song. 
"Nothing  better  in  Britain;  Her  Majesty  has  graciously — " 
and  here,  he  dropped  down  to  business.  With  a  keen 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  he  cried,  "What  do  you  say  now  to  fifty 


344  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

guineas  a  week  and  expenses?  Two  concerts;  two  songs 
and  one  encore !  It  leaves  you  perfectly  free  for  private 
house  singing,  only  nothing  in  public,  at  any  admittance 
fee  affair.  Of  course,  your  expenses  to  London  and  all 
that.  Now  say  yes,  and  I'll  have  you  sing  this  very  after- 
noon at  three,  and  then  sign  papers." 

"I  hardly  know  what  to  say,  it  is  so  sudden,"  pleaded 
tjie  startled  girl.  "I  must  consult  my  friends.  (Alas! 
the  one  maidenly  fiction!)  "  And,you  might  not  like  me," 
she  modestly  said. 

"Oh,  I  am  quite  sure  of  that.  The  whole  town  is  talking 
of  your  success.  I'll  trust  Mario,  too.  I  must.  He  cer- 
tainly has  confidence  in  you,  for,  he  told  me  your  lessons 
were  a  paid  credit,  and  you  can  finish  your  term  when  you 
wish,  without  loss.  He  predicts  a  great  future  for  you. 
Now,  that's  why  I  want  you.  Bless  you,  Madame  Patey," 
and  the  girl  in  self-defense,  cut  off  his  reminiscent  flow 
by  saying: 

"I  will  meet  you  at  three,  then.  If  I  please  you,  my 
answer  will  be  ready  then.     When  would  you  wish  my 


services  r 


?" 


"  Oh,  you  have  a  week  or  ten  days  yet,"  cheerily  said 
the  director,  diving  for  his  hat,  cane  and  gloves.  "You 
must  come  as  soon  as  you  can.  Try  the  hall  and  all  that. 
Now,  I  rely  on  you  alone.  I  had  two  very  nice  voices  in 
my  control;  sorry  to  say  both  faded  off;  overstudy,  break- 
ing down;  don't  dare  to  tell  them  so.  Now,  I  depend  on 
you,  and  I'm  sure  we'll  get  on  well  together.  My  wife 
will  make  you  at  home  in  London,  at  once. "  The  cheery 
fellow  was  off  like  a  shot.  He  only  turned  back  to  say, 
"  I  refer  to  our  ambassador,  by  permission." 

A  last  little  billet  had  escaped  her  eye!  While  the 
tumult  of  her  surprise  was  calming  itself,  she  opened  a 
note, in  which  she  recognized  the  never  failing  attention  of 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE.  345 

the  <  *  gentleman  studying  architecture. "  Mr.  John  Wayne 
Otis'  familiar  handwriting  strangely  cheered  and  inspirited 
her.  His  words  were  not  of  a  romantic  nature,  but  yet, 
they  brought  the  blood  to  her  cheeks.  Her  decision  in  his 
case  was  a  favorable  one  before  she  had  read  the  last  lines. 
They  were : 

"Dear  Miss  Lyndon: — May  I  call  after  dinner  for  a 
walk,  and  to  tell  you  how  charmed  I  was  with  your  mag- 
nificent singing  yesterday?"  and  the  words,  "Faithfully 
yours,  John  Wayne  Otis,"  seemed  to  bring  with  them 
some  peculiar  mystic  charm,  for  she  hid  the  little  note  in 
her  robe,  where  it  rested  upon  her  throbbing  bosom — one 
white  blossom  in  sorrow's  dark  crown! 

There  were  strange  thoughts  chasing  themselves  in  the 
lonely  girl's  disturbed  mind.  She  sat  down  at  the  piano, 
and  essayed  to  lift  up  her  voice  in  song.  She  felt  the 
storm  in  her  heart  break  into  tears  which  would  not  be 
sung,  and  she  sought  again  the  refuge  of  her  lonely  room. 
"I  shall  fail!  I  shall  lose  this  one  chance  of  safety;  my 
one  visible  chance  of  life,"  she  mourned,  and  yet  some 
good  angel  whispered  of  hope.  Great  London;  the  sea 
of  strange  faces,  new  scenes;  a  singer's  crowned  life,  all 
rose  up  before  her.  By  a  happy  chance,  her  eyes  rested 
upon  the  mockingly  handsome  picture  of  Frederick  Wy- 
man,  "  one  of  Nature's  noblemen. "  With  flashing  eyes,  she 
rose,  and  its  tattered  fragments  were  cast  into  the  black- 
ened ashes  of  the  dying  fire.  "  I  will  succeed!  It  is  the 
one  way  out  of  bondage,"  she  cried;  and  then  the  bitter 
rain  of  a  helpless  woman's  tears! 

There  was  no  trace  of  faint  heartedness  lingering  in  her 
mind  when  she  left  Mrs.  Pauline  Buford's  parlors  at  the 
Grand  Hotel.  A  new  light  gleamed  now  in  her  eyes!  The 
noble  light  of  a  proud  woman's  defiance,  for,  when  the 
enthusiastic  millionairess  had  forced  upon  her  a  promised 


346  MISS    DEVERETTX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

engagement  to  sing  at  the  reception  which  was  to  dazzle 
the  American  colony,  she  cordially  said :  < '  You  must  not 
disappoint  me,  my  dear  child,  for  all  our  American  friends 
will  hear  you.  The  engagement  of  my  daughter  to  Mr. 
Wyman  will  bring  our  countrymen  out  in  force.  I  see  that 
the  '  American  Register '  of  to-day  has  the  whole  news.  It 
is  so  strange."  The  room  seemed  to  whirl  around  the 
girl,  to  whom  this  day  was  one  of  the  gravest  of  surprises 
and  of  the  strangest  happenings. 

"I  do  not  wish  you  to  feel  that  I  am  unmindful  of  your 
talents  and,  my  child,  if  twenty-five  hundred  francs  is 
not  enough,  let  me  know.  You  may,  however,  need  a  new 
dress,"  and,  the  kind-hearted  millionairess  altered  her 
check  to  three  thousand  francs.  "  In  four  days,  you  sing, 
so  you  will  have  a  little  time  to  think  over  your  selections. 
You  must  come  as  my  guest." 

Gladys  Lyndon  had  bowed  her  grateful  assent.  * '  Thank 
God!  "  she  murmured,  as  she  hastened  back  to  the  singing, 
"No  one  dare  now  to  connect  my  name  with  that  man's, 
if  he  marries  thic  girl,  and  her  own  mother  continues  to 
befriend  me."  It  all  seemed  like  an  opportune  rubbing 
of  Aladdin's  lamp,  these  turns  of  Fortune's  wheels  Her 
spirits  rose,  for  ^ladamc  Pauline  Buford  had  said,"  I  will 
present  you  to  all  my  friends  in  London  also,  when  you 
come  over  there  to  sing  for  me,  this  winter.  They  will 
be  proud  of  the  star  of  the  West,  our  star  of  the  Golden 
State." 

Mrs.  Buford,  in  her  own  imperious  way,  did  nothing  by 
halves.  And,  she  had  conceived  a  little  scheme  for  her 
own  future  social  exaltation.  In  her  mind's  eye  she  saw 
Gladys  Lyndon,  the  j^reat  Diva  of  the  future,  and  the 
"cognoscenti"  murmuring,  "Yes,  a  wonder!  Mrs. 
General  Buford  discovered  her  and  brought  her  out." 
There  was  also  a  spice  of  feminine  triumph,  in  bearing  off 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    TIDE.         .  347 

the  roc's  egg  discovered  first  by  her  secret  rival,  Milly 
Hammond,  for,  with  the  unerring  instinct  of  woman's 
bodily  jealousy,  Pauline  recognized  in  the  velvet-eyed 
Hammond,  a  fair  townowoman  to  be  most  keenly  scrutin- 
ized. Pauline  suspected  her  humbler  fashionable  sister 
of  being  no  fixed  star,  no  planet  of  stately  orbit,  but  a 
dashing  and  uncertain  comet,  given  to  quaint  '  <  apparent 
motion,"  in  her  unsafe  hyperbolic  orbit,  an  interloper 
in  the  golden  skies  of  the  West,  and  one,  doomed  never 
to  reach  that  blue  and  gold  fretted  zenith,  which  gleamed 
down  on  the  Buford  mansion  on  Nob  Hill. 

"So  it  was  needless  disgrace,  deliberate  insult  which  this 
wooer,  fresh  from  the  lips  of  a  plighted  bride,  offered  to 
me; "  thus  Gladys  reflected,  for  she  had  not  fathomed  the 
secret  of  Wyman's  mental  excitement,  due  to  the  masked 
battery  in  the  West,  and  the  * '  f amilar  "  spirits  he  had  toyed 
with.  Ah!  thou  invisible  spirit  of  wine!  Many  a 
deftly  laid  plan  hast  thou  deranged  for  ever  and  aye! 
Yelling  furies,  snaky  remorse,  unceasing  sorrows,  horrible 
crimes,  sins  past  all  repairing,  griefs  the  most  despairing, 
hover  around  the  " bright  bowl"  wherein  the  elixir  of 
death  sparkles  in  its  dancing  pride! 

An  elastic  resentment  swelled  in  the  girl's  pure  angered 
breast  as  she  swept  into  the  room  where  Mario  and  Direc- 
tor Ernest  Thomas  awaited  her,  < '  I  will  succeed ! "  she 
pledged  herself.  Her  mute  eyes  sought  the  maestro  who, 
without  a  word,  catching  the  sparkle  of  her  eye,  beckoned 
her  to  the  Erard,  over  which  his  jeweled  fingers  strayed. 
Music  deftly  chosen  by  the  proud  teacher  was  there. 
"  Sing,"  he  said,  cheerily.  Fixing  her  eyes  on  the  ceiling, 
the  girl  sang  boldly,  her  last  appeal  for  liberty,  freedom, 
for  a  woman's  life  and  honor  in  that  one  defiant  song. 
It  was  the  crisis  of  her  imperiled  womanhood ! 

She  was  still  rapt  in  a  dream,  as  the  Director  cried,  in 


348  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

wild  enthusiam,  "  not  another  single  note.  It  would  be 
cruelty!     You  are  to  be  mine!     Glorious!  Glorious!" 

< '  Softly,  softly,"  said  the  maestro,  as  he  kissed  the 
girl's  fair,  helpless  hands,  for  the  < '  glow  which  in  her 
bosom  dwelt,  was  fluttering  faint  and  low. " 

'  'I  will  arrange  ze  papaire.  You  shall  sign,  not  to-night, 
to-morrow.  I  have  too,  ze  leetle  condition.  You  come 
back  to  me."  And  he  autocratically  then  prescribed  rest 
and  "a  leetle  sleep,"  for  the  happy  young  diva.  "He 
shall  a  few  more  of  the  English  guineas  give,"  the  great 
singer  whispered.  "  And,  not  to  own  you  fore vaire.  I 
study  ze  papaire.     Brava!  " 

But,  it  was  really  as  a  prize  to  the  overjoyed  Thomas 
that  the  triumphant  girl  left  the  salle  de  musique.  "Ad- 
mirable famille,  homme  de  coeur  of  ze  high  standing,  ze 
friend  of  many  years,"  her  one  reliable  adviser  had 
whispered,  in  answer  to  Gladys'  furtive  question,  for 
since  her  rencontre  at  close  quarters  with  the  unmasked 
private  Wyman,  she  now  feared  all  men,  as  Ishmaelites  of 
the  baser  sort.  It  was  her  first  rough  awakening  to  the 
fatal  dangers  of  a  beauty  which  had  not  dawned  upon  her 
own  dreaming  eyes.     But,  all  men  marked  her  down! 

When  the  stars  were  shining  down  upon  her  again, 
with  a  light  which  had  gleams  of  a  happier  future  than 
the  loneliness  of  these  long  dayc  since  she  had  left  the 
convent  walls,  Gladys  Lyndon  walked  out  Avith  the  young 
gentleman  from  Boston.  Seated  in  the  Tuileres  Gardens, 
where  so  many  trysts  of  men  and  maid  have  hallowed  the 
historic  sward,  the  singer  then  told  Otis  of  her  intended 
departure  from  Paris.  The  young  Bostonian  listened 
gravely,  with  his  head  bowed,  and  was  seemingly  deeply 
intent  upon  the  construction  of  a  peculiarly  rafnne  English 
umbrella  in  his  hand;  it  was  his  particular  pride!  He  had 
thoroughly  examined  each  stitch  and  joint,  and  the  maiden 


THE    TURN    OF    THE   TIDE.  349 

had  faltered  out  every  detail  that  she  fain  would  have 
withheld,  before  he  spoke. 

Artful  Jack  Otis  allowed  her  to  spur  herself  gently  on, 
for,  in  some  mystic  way,  he  felt  that  she  saw  the  pain  of 
this  parting,  written  on  his  bowed  face.  In  her  own  fond, 
womanly  way,  she  would  have  him  know  that  he  was  not 
to  drop  entirely  out  of  her  life.  She  had  jealously 
guarded  all  reference  to  Frederick  Wyman.  By  some  in- 
tuitive feeling,  the  young  millionaire's  existence  had  been 
ignored  by  them.  Gladys  Lyndon,  holding  in  her  hand  a 
cluster  of  bright,  fresh  roses,  which  the  student  of  archi- 
tecture has  given  her,  knew  that  Otis  yearned  for  even  a 
single  glimpse  behind  the  gateways  of  her  girlhood.  She 
recognized  his  delicate  chivalry  in  the  way  he  had  unfolded 
his  own  family  history,  and  had  painted  the  old  home  on 
the  far-away  Charles,  with  the  stately  mother  therein,  her 
heart  filled  with  love,  a  living  love  for  the  graceful  wan- 
derer, and  nursing  a  silent  pride  in  the  unreturning  brave. 
There  is  no  fond  woman  who  cannot  read  her  own  lover's 
heart,  and  feel  the  mute  pleadings,  voiced  only  in  the 
throbbing  pulses,  bounding  in  the  fever  of  waiting  the  be- 
loved one's  word! 

"  It  may  seem  sudden, it  may  seem  strange, this  change," 
she  faltered,  "  but,  I  must  go!  I  am  not  free  to  shape  my 
own  life." 

A  quick  turn  of  his  head,  caused  her  fond  heart  to  cease 
beating.  There  was  a  question  in  his  eyes  which  her  clear 
glance  answered,  and,  he  again  bestowed  especial  care  upon 
that  wonderfully  intricate  umbrella  construction. 

A  band  was  playing  "  Si  vous  n'avez  rien  a  me  dire," 
near  them.  She  earnestly  continued,  in  a  low  voice:  "You 
know  I  am  poor;  alone  in  the  world,  and  this  engagement, 
with  Mrs.  Buford's  friendship  in  London,  may  insure  the 
completion  of  my  education.     If  Miss  Buford's  marriage 


350  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MAEIQUITA. 

to  Mr.  Wyman  occurs  this  winter,  in  London,  it  will  enable 
me  to  build  up  a  good  clientele  among  the  Americans,  who 
entertain,  as  the  Bufords  will  open   their  London  house." 

"  When  do  you  go?"  said  Mr.  Jack  Otis,  in  a  smoth- 
ered voice,  and  then  he  toiled,  finishing  with  great  care,  a 
diagram  he  was  tracing  with  the  point  of  his  beloved  um- 
brella. 

"As  soon  as  Mrs.  Buford's  reception  is  over,"  softly 
answered  Gladys,  a  regret  shaking  her  voice,  in  a  sorrow 
which  she  could  not  dissemble.  "  I  will  sign  my  contract 
to-morrow,  and  Mr.  Thomas,  who  returns  at  once,  will 
telegraph  me  the  moment  his  wife  has  found  me  suitable 
apartments.  I  have  nothing  then,  to 'keep  me  here,  for  my 
studies,  if  resumed,  will  be  deferred  until  the  next  semes- 
tre.  I  feel,  though,  as  if  I  were  drifting  on  to  some  new, 
strange  destiny." 

"Will  you  make  me  one  promise?  "  said  the  Bostonian, 
"I  have  never  asked  you  a  favor  yet."  He  was  gazing  very 
frankly  into  her  eyes. 

"If  I  can  grant  it,  certainly!"  the  singer  replied,  and 
then,  she  started  at  the  strange  sound  of  her  own  voice. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  were  a  sort  of  brother  in  a  way,  to  you 
just  now,"  the  young  man  said,  with  a  growing  embar- 
rassment, "  Let  me  escort  you  down  to  Calais." 

There  were  two  very  happy  eyes  shining  on  his,  and  a 
gentle  pressure  of  his  arm  was  her  only  answer;  for  they 
had  now  risen  and  were  pacing  homewards. 

"There  is  one  pleasant  thing,"  very  brightly  and  cheer- 
fully said  Jack  Otis,  finally  breaking  a  silence  which 
seemed  to  be  interminable, "  I  shall  hear  you  in  London,  and 
also  see  you,  if  you  will  allow  me,  as  I  am  going  to  study 
the  special  architectural  features  of  modern  London.  It  is 
a  subject  which  is  vital  to  the  proper  extension  of  the 
special  ideas  of  my  book." 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE.  351 

Miss  Gladys  Lyndon  was  silent.  There  was  a  peculiar 
brightness  in  the  star-lit  heavens  just  at  that  very  moment! 
The  delightful  woman,  happy  at  heart,  fondly  fancied  the 
new  light  was  in  her  own  soul.  Ah!  graceful,  loving 
dreamer.  It  was  the  radiance  of  the  passing  wings  of  the 
recording  angel  on  his  way  to  the  pearly  gates,  to  chalk  up 
two  marks  of  gigantic  dimensions  in  "the  white  lie  col- 
umn," against  Jack  Otis.  "One  for  calling  himself 
brother,"  said  the  rosy  angel,  smiling  in  his  work;  ' '  another, 
for  that  very  lame  yarn  about  the  modern  architecture  of 
London." 

"I'll  leave  places  here  for  some  more;  that  man  is  not 
to  be  trusted."  And,  the  angel,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  a 
silvery  sailing  cloud,  looked  down  upon  the  happy  woman 
trembling  in  a  strange,  new  delight  she  dared  not  own  as 
love,  a  sweet  unknown  thrill.  But,  Jack  Otis  only  lifted 
his  mendacious  eye  to  the  starry  heavens  and  winked  at 
Venus,  the  splendid  evening  star.  He  saw  in  the  dim  far 
future,  a  light  shining  out  for  him  in  the  dreaming  eyes, 
whose  glances  seemed  to  signal,  "Wait  in  hope." 

Venus*  amiable  orb,  sent  down  her  silvery  gleams  of 
distant  approval  upon  "  Brother  Jack!  " 


352  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  Flaw  in  the  Deed. 

Two  weeks  later,  Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis  sprang  up, after 
a  long  storm  of  applause  had  died  away  in  the  Albert  Mu- 
sic Hall  of  London.  It  was  the  emphatic  verdict  of  that 
most  respected  body,  "  the  select  British  public. "  When 
Mr.  Ernest  Thomas  had  led  off  the  blushing  apparition 
who  dispatched  a  Parthian  dart  in  Jack's  direction,  the 
Bostonian  edged  his  way  quickly  to  the  waiting-room  door. 
He  had  profited  by  the  opportunity  to  intently  examine 
the  construction  of  the  Albert  Music  Hall,  gazing  upon  its 
roof  with  a  wildly  throbbing  heart,  while  Gladys  Lyndon 
faced  the  Gorgon  eye  and  hydra  head  of  a  strange  audi- 
ence. His  pulses  stopped  beating,  until,  as  the  notes  of  the 
lovely  stranger  died  away,  a  spontaneous  demonstration 
showed  that  she  had  sung  her  way  into  the  great  heart  of 
London!  John  Wayne  Otis,  in  that  supreme  moment, 
turning  his  eager  head,  mentally  photographed  certain 
kindred  souls  whose  faces  were  treasured  as  dear  and  unfor- 
gotten  in  later  days — friends  of  his  soul. 

His  architectural  progress  had  been  vary  rapid  and  also 
satisfying.  Several  charming  elevations  of  castles  in 
Spain,  only  now  needed  finishing  touches,  antl,  he  was  very 
familiar  with  the  external  structure  and  internal  arrange- 
ment of  the  homelike  nest  which  Mr.  Ernest  Thomas  had, 
with  true  fatherly  care,  sought  out  for  the  foreign  song 
bird.  He  had  been  successful  in  inspiring  a  certain  inter- 
est in  his  technical  studies  in  the  gentle  bosom  of  Gladys 
Lyndon,  for  at  both  palace  and  fane,  parks,  and  even  upon  the 


A    FLAAV    IN    THE    DEED.  353 

oft-bridged  river,  the  lady  of  his  dreams  shared  his  fre- 
quent voyages  of  exploration.  The  singular  stimulus  to 
his  studies  and  their  improved  regularity,  seemed  to  be 
entirely  due  to  the  appreciation  of  Miss  Lyndon  of  his 
varied  personal  comments. 

These  London  outings  were  decidedly  halcyon  days  to 
Jack  Otis  the  dissembler,  who  drifted,  drifted  very  gaily 
down  the  stream  of  time,  and  his  solicitude  for  his  gentle 
companion  was  now  crowned  by  her  public  triumph. 

"I  told  you  so,"  he  smilingly  said,  as  he  grasped  her 
trembling  hand  in  the  waiting-room. 

"  They  were  all  so  friendly,"  the  orphaned  girl  mur- 
mured, as  she  turned  her  grateful  eyes  to  the  overjoyed 
director.      She  was  tenderly  grateful. 

"  Bless  your  dear  heart,  my  dear  child, they  can't  help  lov- 
ing you.  You  will  be  their  idol,  and  the  London  rage,  in  a 
month."  Director  Thomas  had  swelled  visibly  in  happi- 
ness. 

Otis,  still  intent  upon  the  ceiling,  agreed  heartily  in 
the  last  clause,  with  some  private  reservation  as  to  whose 
idol  the  dreaming  beauty  would  be,  but,  all  was  well.  At 
a  little  supper,  in  the  very  bosom,  as  it  were,  of  Direc- 
tor Thomas'  family,  Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis  unloosed  his 
collegiate  Pegasus,  and  made  some  singularly  neat  refer- 
ences to  the  British  Lion  and  the  American  Eagle,  and  in- 
dulged in  pleasing  hopes,  etc. ,  etc. ,  some  of  them  judic- 
iously international  in  their  scope,  and  others,  a  mere  side 
issue,  treasured  in  his  own  Yankee  heart. 

The  arrival  "  on  business,"  of  General  Hiram  Buford, 
had  enabled  that  mighty  financial  whale  to  float  in,  as  a 
gigantic  escort  to  Mrs.  Milly  Hammond,  who  had  strangely 
"run  over  from  Paris,  to  cheer  and  encourage  dear 
Gladys. 

A   brief  but  meaning   whisper,  as  Mrs.  Hammond  left 


354  MISS    DEVEKEUX    OF    THE   MAKIQUITA. 

the  waiting-room  where  she  had  i>enetrated  with  charac- 
teristic dash,  informed  Gladys  of  some  important  business 
which  she  must  consult  her  upon.  ' '  At  ten  to-morrow, 
then,  at  my  rooms,"  said  the  triumphant  singer,  with  a 
vague  new  uneasiness.  It  had  been  the  one  cloud  upon 
the  evening  of  triumph. 

Gladys  Lyndon  had  faced  her  London  audience  with  a 
trustful  confidence,  for  the  great  success  of  her  singing  at 
Mrs.  General  Buford's  great  Parisian  reception  had  justi- 
fied. Director  Ernest  Thomas  in  blackening  the  ink,  and 
increasing  the  size  of  the  posters  which  heralded  the 
American  stranger  upon  the  bill  boards.  The  impulsive 
generosity  and  warm-hearted  hospitality  of  Mrs.  Buford 
had  caused  Gladys  Lyndon  to  forget  the  gloomy  shadows 
of  her  last  Paris  days.  In  this  hour  of  triumph,  the 
words  of  Mrs.  Milly  Hammond  called  up  the  brutally 
menacing  face  of  "  Nature's  nobleman,"  as  he  hurled  his 
last  insult  at  her. 

' '  He  is  capable  of  anything ! ' '  thought  the  shuddering 
orphan,  and  a  vague  distrust  of  Mrs.  Hammond  haunted 
her  slumbers  that  night. 

London  fogs,  cold  and  gray,  wrapped  the  streets  as  Mrs. 
Hammond  rung  the  street  bell  on  the  next  morning,  at  the 
singer's  residence.  There  was  a  business-like  air  in  her 
appearance,  which  was  fitly  accompanied  by  a  face  of 
supernatural  gravity. 

"I  wonder  how  she  will  take  it,"  muttered  the  lady  of 
Van  Ness  avenue,  as  her  foot  slowly  mounted  the  stair, 
for  the  cable,  and  a  letter  from  Havre,  had  busied  her 
again  in  Wyman's  secret  service,  and  that  "  nobleman  of 
Nature  "  had  decided  to  strike  down  the  gentle  dove,  be- 
fore she  could  flutter  far  out  of  his  reach.  "  I  don't  more 
than  half  like  this  errand.  It  is  dirty  work  after  all," 
Mrs.  Hammond  ruminated,  as  she  listened  to  the  rustle  of 


A   FLAW    IX   THE    DEED.  355 

Gladys'  robes,  and  her  quick,  buoyant  step  resounded  in 
the  hall. 

The  girl  was  rosy  in  smiles,  for  a  sheaf  of  London 
papers  had  been  sent  in  by  that  proud  impressario,  Mr. 
Ernest  Thomas.  They  were  all  marked  to  show  the  gen- 
erous welcome  of  the  musical  critics  to  the  lovely  stranger. 
A  beautiful  basket  of  roses  had  reminded  her  that  morn- 
ing that  Jack  Otis  was  also  carefully  studying  ' '  green- 
house architecture,"  as  well  as  his  other  special  features, 
and  strange  to  say,  several  other  floral  offerings  bearing 
strange  cards,  with  the  most  amiable  anonymous  inscrip- 
tions came  also,  and  their  signatures  varied  from  "Ardent 
Admirer"  to  "Thine  Only."  With  a  passing  sigh,  the 
lonely  beauty  had  waked  at  last  to  the  consciousness  that 
others  besides  Frederick  Wynian  had  looked  upon  her  face 
and  found-  it  fair.  The  woman  chase!  Never  ending, 
always  fierce. 

"I  called  to  see  you,  my  darling,  just  to  bring  you  a 
roll  of  the  San  Francisco  papers.     I   know  you  will   be 

very  glad -to   see  them,  and ,"  the  hesitating  woman 

said,  ' '  to  know  that  you  are  well  rested  after  your  ex- 
citement. Ah!  you  are  splendidly  launched  now,"  and  in 
a  strange,  feverish  manner,  Hilly  Hammond  talked  all 
about  the  social  field,  until  Gladys,  who  was  still  dis- 
turbed by  the  words  "  important  business,"  said  simply: 

"  You  wished  also  to  speak  to  me  of  some  affairs?" 
There  was  a  chilled  frostiness  in  the  reluctant  words  of 
her  visitor. 

< '  Yes,  I  am  very  sorry,  but  I  received  a  letter  yesterday 
afternoon  from  the  bankers,  which  has  alarmed  me.  I 
came  to  you  at  once,  and  I  hope  you  may  not  be  too  much 
annoyed  by  them.  It  has  kept  me  awake  all  night." 
Gladys  Lyndon  with  a  wave  of  self-protective  feeling, 
recalled   the   fact   that  Wyman's  name   had  not  crossed 


356        MISS  DEVEREUX  OF  THE  MARIQUITA. 

their  lips  for  some  time.  This  brought  his  dark  shadow 
back. 

"lam  sure,  I  feel  certain,"  stammered  Milly  Ham- 
mond, ' '  that  he  must  be  in  some  trouble  of  some  kind. 
You  know  that  'stock  business '  is  so  uncertain.  I  do 
not  know  either  what  has  occurred  between  you  two." 
She  ceased,  as  Gladys  Lyndon  raised  eyes  to  hers  which 
showed  a  clear  danger  signal.  She  was  a  clear-eyed 
woman,  brave  and  alert  in  her  own  defense. 

"I  am  astonished  that  these  gentlemen  should  have  sent 
this  through  you,  to  me,"  the  orphan  girl  coldly  said,  as 
her  face  whitened  to  marble.  "It  seems  they  would  like 
to  make  up  a  public  shame  of  a  private  obligation." 

"But  what  will  you  do,  my  darling  girl?  Something 
must  be  done!  And,  at  once,"  eagerly  continued  Mrs. 
Hammond,  for  once  she  had  gone  entirely  too  far.  She 
felt  it,  as  Gladys  arose,  and  coldly  said : 

* '  I  will  consider  the  matter,  and  then  write  to  them 
direct."  The  fashionable  fraud  dropped  her  gleaming 
eyes,  defeated. 

"But,  what  has  been  the  cause  of  this  unpleasantness 
between  you  and  Mr.  Wyman,"  persisted  Milly  Hammond. 
She  would  have  been  glad  to  have  recalled  this  question, 
at  any  cost,  when  the  singer  said : 

"I  have  never  mentioned  any  unpleasantness  between 
Mr.  Wyman  and  myself.  What  do  you  know  of  any 
such  matter?"  And  then,  Miss  Lyndon  steadily  said:  "I 
must  go  now  and  write  to  these  men." 

The  lady  from  Van  Ness  avenue  felt  that  she  had  sadly 
blundered.  "I  wonder  if  Strong  has  at  last  found  out 
her  address,  and  written  to  her.  This  newspaper  notoriety 
and  all  this  musical  glory,  has  lost  to  Wyman  the  control 
of  this  girl.  Perhaps  her  manager  will  help  her.  She  is 
out  of  his  power  at  any  rate,  in  England." 

As  Milly  Hammond  stepped  into  her  cab,   she  reflected 


A  FLAW   IN   THE   DEED.  357 

that  Gladys  had  not  asked  her  to  repeat  ner  call,  and  had 
made  no  proffer  of  a  return  visit.  '  <  She  has  taken  the  alarm, " 
she  murmured.  ''My  influence  over  her  is  forever  at  an 
end." 

In  a  somewhat  resentful  mood,  Mrs.  Hammond  drove 
back  to  the  cable  office  and  dispatched  to  Frederick 
Wyman,  San  Francisco.     Her  reply  was  as  follows : 

"  Orders  obeyed.  Too  late.  She  remains  silent.  Can 
do  no  more.  Greatest  musical  success  possible  in  Lon- 
don." 

1 '  I  think  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  is  snarling  himself  up 
badly,"  remarked  the  beauty  to  herself,  late  that  night,  as 
she  unloosed  her  girdle  in  the  sacred  privacy  of  her  own 
room.  She  was  smiling  softly  at  a  beautiful  diamond 
bracelet  which  General  Hiram  Buford  had  clasped  on  her 
rounded  arm,  "  with  a  few  appropriate  remarks,"  on  this 
happy  night,  for  in  an  abstracted  moment,  he  had 
damned  Mr.  Wyman  up  and  down,  to  use  his  energetic 
expression,  "  as,  only  a  smart  fool." 

1 '  The  meanest  kind  of  a  fool  is  a  man  who  is  <  dead 
gone  on  himself,'  Milly,"  the  millionaire  said  gruffly,  in 
explanation  of  his  outbreak.  "  I  have  been  entangled  by 
this  smart  lad,  and  led  on  into  a  false  position.  I  fear  he 
has  got  out  '  over  his  depth.'  It  may  take  me  home  sud- 
denly, I  am  afraid.  I  must  bring  him  '  into  line. '  The 
bank  has  wired  to  me  for  instructions.  You  can  either  go 
with  me,  or  else,  stay  here  till  I  comeback."  Whereat  Mrs. 
Hammond  tenderly  smiled.  Patting  him  upon  his  rubicund 
cheek,  she  gently  called  him  "  Old  Reliable." 

"I'll  do  anything  you  wish,"  she  murmured,  and  then, 
mentally  nailed  his  colors  to  the  mast.  He  clasped  her  to 
him  in  delight. 

Four  days  later,  Mrs.  Hammond  was  astounded  at  the 
reply  of  the  Parisian  bankers  to  a  rather  extended  letter  of 


358  MISS   DEVEREUX    OP   THE   MARIQUITA, 

officious  explanation  she  had  written,  in  reply  to  the  open 
letter  addressed  to  her.  « '  Can  it  be  Strong  who  has  come 
to  the  front  ?  "  she  muttered.  "  The  game  is  up  now.  And 
now, the  girl  hates  me.  I  wonder  if  I  shall  answer  Strong's 
letter,"  for,  the  lawyer's  letter  of  inquiry  burned  on  her 
bosom.  "He  was  always  devoted  to  me.  He  will  soon 
get  on  his  feet  again,  and,  I  may  need  his  legal  advice  some 
day."  Whereat,  she  indited  a  very  friendly  message  to 
Waldo  Strong  and  enclosed  clippings  of  the  wonderful 
success  of  the  "California  Diamond  "  at  the  American 
Minister's  and  Mrs.  Buford's  in  Paris,  as  well  as~a  care- 
fully drawn  sketch  of  the  girl's  status  on  the  Continent, 
leaving  out  all  reference  to  London.  She  also  ignored 
Wyman,  whose  l '  timely  bridge  over  "  was  no  longer  needed ; 
for,  was  not  that  peaceful  warrior,  Hiram  Buford,  at  her 
beck  and  call? 

The  sharp  snap  of  the  banker's  letter  disturbed  her.     It 
read: 
<  <  Madam : 

1  <  As  the  matter  you  refer  to  has  been  settled  in  full,  all 
further  correspondence  is  useless  upon  that  subject,  our 
instructions  having  been  duly  fulfilled.  We  beg  leave  to  re- 
main," etc.,  etc. 

"  I  suppose  the  manager  has  gladly  come  to  the  rescue," 
decided  the  irritated  woman,  whose  curiosity  was  destined 
never  to  be  satisfied,  for,  though  she  approached  Miss 
Gladys  Lyndon,  now  a  fully  developed  "star,"  and  rap- 
idly moving  on  to  be  "  the  rage,"  the  young  can tatrice  was 
equably  and  professionally  polite,  but,  as  distant  as  her 
sister  stars  in  the  zenith.  The  stroke  had  failed,  and  yet 
the  rescue  of  Miss  Lyndon's  name  had  been  effected  by 
another  than  the  warm-hearted  Ernest  Thomas,  Director, 
etc.  etc. 

It  had  fallen  about  very    strangely;  for,  an    interval  of 


A   FLAW    IN   THE   DEED.  359 

stony  despair  and  of  stormy  grief,  the  last,  a  tribute  to  her 
womanhood,  had  been  followed  by  the  utter  breakdown  of 
Miss  Lyndon.  The  hunted  girl  had  fled  to  her  rooms  and, 
casting  the  roll  of  Calif ornian  papers  on  the  table,  read 
again,  with  a  sickening  heart,  the  brutally  direct  words  of 
the  letter  which  Mrs.  Hammond  had  given  to  her.  One 
clause  had  pierced  her  heart  with  the  bitter  shame  of  pov- 
erty; a  galling  chain  which  had  cramped  her  soul  in  her 
whole  lonely  life,  the  badge  of  dependent  humiliation. 
Her  eyes  were  streaming  as  she  read: 

< '  Our  principal,  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman,  has  directed, 
that  in  the  event  of  Miss  Lyndon  abandoning  the  course  of 
studies  marked  out  for  her,  and  leaving  Paris,  she  be  re- 
quested to  replace  at  once,  the  sums  expended  upon  her 
travel  and  musical  education,  up  to  the  time  of  such 
abandonment. 

"We  regret  to  learn  that  such  is  the  case,  and,  there- 
fore, to  avoid  personal  unpleasantness  with  a  young  per- 
son, a  stranger  to  us,  beg  you  to  acquaint  her  with  the 
immediate  necessity  of  depositing  the  two  thousand  dollars, 
so  far  drawn,  upon  the  canceled  letter  of  credit.  We 
stand  charged  by  our  New  York  house  with  this  sum. 
Your  immediate  attention  to  this  will  greatly  oblige  us." 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  sympathetic  housemaid,  Harriet, 
endeavored,  in  the  lapse  of  the  afternoon,  to  arouse  Miss 
Gladys  Lyndon  to  the  necessity  of  descending  into  the 
drawing-room,  and  meeting  Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis.  That 
"architectural  expert"  was  also  a  man  most  fair  and 
comely  to  view.  He  had  the  "voice  of  a  singing  bird," 
to  the  appreciative  ears  of  the  comely  housemaid,  who  was 
of  a  romantic  turn  of  mind.  She  recognized  in  Jack  Otis 
the  character  of  Cyril  Brandt,  the  virtuous  and  good-look- 
ing young  artist,  who  rescues  the  heiress  of  too  much  good 
looks,  in  a  stunning  novelette,  ' '  The  Earl's  Plaything,  or 


360  MISS   DEVEREUX    OP   THE    MARlQtTIfA. 

Webs  of  Doom,"  a  serial  which  was  now  running  contem- 
poraneously with  her  daily  household  duties.  Jack  Otis  was 
shyly  casting  out  all  his  "ground  tackle,"  and  the  august 
face  of  Her  Majesty  had  beamed  with  a  fixed  smile  on 
many  half  crowns,  which  had  found  their  way  into  pretty 
Harriet's  apron  pocket.     Artful  Brother  Jack! 

"Don't  you  be  cast  down,  sir.  Wait  a  bit.  Miss  Gladys 
will  be  down  directly,  I'm  sure.  I'll  work  on  her  a  bit. 
You  see,  sir,  she's  been  cryin'  steady  all  day.  That  there 
American  lady  has  been  here  with  a  letter  and  not  even  a 
cup  of  tea  will  she  take."  The  frank-eyed  maid  darted  a 
look  of  friendly  encouragement  from  under  her  snowy  cap 
at  Jack  Otis,  who  stood  irresolute. 

"Damn  that  Hammond  woman!"  he  cried  savagely. 

"Ah!  I  have  it,"  he  thought,  as  his  curly  head  went 
down  over  the  center  table,  and  he  quickly  penciled  on  his 
card.  "I  must  see  you  to-day,  I  may  have  to  go  home 
to  America  at  once.     It  is  a  vital  moment." 

"Now!  give  her  this,"  cried  Jack,  and  he  deftly  duplicated 
his  great  "half-crown"  act.  "You  shall  have  a  Christ- 
mas box,  if  you  make  her  come  down,"  he  insidiously 
promised  as  Harriet  sped  away;  and  the  recording  angel, 
gazing  down  from  the  heavenly  perch,  then  and  there, 
"chalked  up  a  stunner,"  in  the  white  lie  column,  on  this 
last  feat  of  mendacity,  and  "stood  by,  awaiting  orders." 

John  Wayne  Otis  measured  the  drawing-room  with  wolf- 
like strides,  and  he  contemplated  certain  gloomy  funereal 
effects  in  case  of  failure ;  but,  a  foot  as  light  as  a  snow 
flake  was  soon  heard  upon  the  stair,  soft  as  the  dews 
that  fell  that  night.  The  frightened  girl  murmured,  "I 
could  not  let  you  go  without  one  word." 

The  "brother"  of  the  "  architectural  exploring  "  coterie 
muttered,  "and,  I  shall  not  let  you  go  until  I  know  what 
is  your  sorrow." 


A   FLAW    IN   THE   DEED.  361 

The  last  whisper  of  his  soliloquy  sounded  in  his  heart 
of  hearts  very  niuch  like  "My  poor  darling!"  Very 
brother-like,  very! 

Somewhere,  Jack  had  read  that  a  vigorous  self-assertion 
at  the  critical  time  was  a  ' '  happy  thought "  in  cases  of 
this  kind.  His  finely  vibrating  voice  belied  the  speechless 
entreaty  of  his  eyes,  as  he  led  her  to  a  seat. 

"I  can  not,  and  will  not,  leave  London  until  I  know 
what  troubles  you.  We  are  both  alone  in  the  world. 
Now,  I  have  no  sister,  of  course,  but  I'm  sure  in  your 
place,  you  know,  she  would  just  tell  me  all.  I  don't  know 
what  there  is  you  could  not  say  to  me,"  and  awed  by  the 
suffering  on  her  fair  and  gentle  face,  John  Wayne  Otis  de- 
liberately walked  to  the  central  arch  of  the  rooms,  and 
turned  his  head  away.  "That  will  have  its  effect,"  he 
prided  himself,  and  the  recording  angel  executed  another 
neat  stroke  in  the  list  of  Jack's  peccadillos,  waiting  with 
suspended  stylus,  for  "more."  But,  the  sound  of  sobbing 
had  drawn  Jack  Otis  back  to  the  girl's  side  with  rapid 
strides. 

"  By  the  God  of  Heavens!  I  will  know,"  he  cried. 
"  Don't  you  see  how  I  am  suffering?  " 

And  as  the  fair  head  was  bowed  before  him,  its  golden 
hair  blinding  her  eyes,  as  Miss  Lyndon  murmured  at  last, 
the  source  of  her  sorrows.  His  imperative  assertion  of  a 
shadowy  brotherhood  broke  down  the  only  remaining  bar- 
rier of  her  pride. 

"  It  is  that.  I'll  tell  you  all.  With  a  little  time,  and  I 
can  repay  this."  And  the  sobbing  girl  then  began  to  falter 
the  acknowledgement  of  her  once  welcome  obligation,  but 
which  was  now  a  galling  chain. 

Mr.  Jack  Otis  deliberately  stopped  her  with  a  "regular 
whopper."  He  had  possessed  himself  of  her  helpless  hand, 
the  hand  on  which  he  saw  the  fair  emplacement  for  a  wed- 


362  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

ding  ring,  and  as  he  gently  possessed  himself  of  the  letter, 
he  kissed  the  hand  in  a  brotherly  fashion. 

"  I'll  mark  him  nothing  for  that,"  miised  the  recording 
angel,  far  above.  "I  would  do  the  same  myself,  that  is,  if 
I  were  not  an  angel, "  and  the  heavenly  official  shifted  un- 
easily upon  his  golden  cloud.  For  once,  he  envied  an  erring 
mortal. 

"Now  listen  to  me,"  sternly  said  the  Bostonian.  "Do 
you  remember  you  have  to  sing  to-morrow  night.  Now,  I 
have  to  run  over  to  Paris  to  say  "  Good-bye  "  to  the  best 
artist  fellow  I  know.  I  happen  to  know  these  bankers  very 
well,  and  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  have  this  affair  set  off 
in  a  private  account,  which  you  can  settle  as  you  wish  to.  It 
will  at  once  relieve  you,  and,  it's  just  the  same  you  know." 
There  was  a  gleam  of  relief,  a  shade  of  loving  doubt,  and 
a  world  of  proud  loving  shame  in  her  trembling  eyes,  as 
she  fixed  them  upon  him. 

'  <  You  are  not  deceiving  me.  You  are  taking  no  bur- 
den on  yourself  ?"  she  said.  "I  was  going  to  ask  Mr. 
Thomas  himself  to  arrange  it  that  way,  but,  my  child- 
hood has  been  so  lonely,  so  sad.  I  have  so  few  friends.  I 
was  afraid."  He  could  have  crushed  her  in  his  strong 
arms.     He  smiled  to  himself,  "  Only  wait." 

"By  Jove!"  most  cheerfully  cried  Otis,  as  he  glanced  at 
the  clock,  "  I've  only  the  time  left  to  get  my  little  traps 
and  make  sure  of  the  train.  Now, you  must  promise  me  three 
things.  I've  not  a  moment  to  lose. "  She  smiled  so  brightly 
at  him  through  her  tears.  In  her  fond  woman  heart  she 
knew  at  last,  that  her  own  will  had  gone  out  from  her; 
that  Jack  Otis  by  a  daring  escalade,  had  made  a  lodgment 
in  her  heart.  She  felt  by  the  quickened  pulses  throbbing 
wildly,  a  melting  glow  in  her  bosom,  that  it  were  well  he 
should  go  now.  And  she  trusted  to  him,  to  use  his 
victory  so  mercifully. 

"What  shall  I  do?  "  she  murmured. 


A    FLAW    IN    THE   DEED.  363 

"  First,  rest  and  dismiss  this  vexing  matter  entirely 
from  your  mind.  Secondly,  allow  me  to  take  this  letter. 
Thirdly,  promise  me  to  answer,  as  I  wish,  any  dispatch  I 
might  have  to  send  from  Paris,  on  the  formalities  of  this 
matter. " 

<<I  will  trust  to  you  to  act  for  me,"  ,she  said  as  she  rose, 
for,  in  his  honest  eyes  she  could  see  his  prayer  that  she 
would  yield.  "To  act  for  me,"  she  said  slowly,  "  as  if 
you  were  in  my  place,  and — I  were  your  own  brother 
Jack." 

Mr.  Otis  remained  spell-bound  at  her  side,  lulled  by  the 
sweetness  of  her  accents  as  she  faltered  the  last  words, 
and  when  the  young  knight  errant  lifted  his  eyes,  she  was 
gone. 

A  little  knot  of  blue  ribbon  had  fallen  from  her  breast, 
as  she  had  bowed  her  head  in  sorrow  at  the  table.  He 
picked  it  up,  kissed  it  with  a  wild  glee  and  sped  away, 
but,  at  the  door,  intercepted  by  the  handsome  Harriet,  he 
remembered  a  half  sovereign  which  in  his  mind,  he  had 
promised  her  some  time  before.  He  whistled  loudly  and 
merrily,  to  the  disturbance  of  the  peace  of  good  Queen 
Victoria,  as  he  dashed  away  to  his  hotel.  "  I  think  I  see 
the  drift  of  this  thing.  I  will  <  knock  out'  one  «  dragon,' 
at  any  rate,"  confidently  predicted  Otis. 

All  the  way  over  the  Channel,  he  was  still  singularly 
jubilant,  and  never  gayer  in  his  life  than  when  next  day 
at  noon  he  entered  the  Paris  banking  office. 

He  held  Miss  Lyndon's  letter  in  his  hand.  The  grave 
bank  manager  was  politeness  itself,  and  his  face  showed 
an  amicable  concern  when  the  Bostonian  airily  stated  that 
Miss  Lyndon's  slight  illness  prevented  her  writing;  but,  he 
was  very  careful  to  preserve  the  receipt  for  two  thousand 
dollars,  and  "  in  full  of  all  demands,"  which  he  received 
in  exchange  for  four  hundred  pounds  and  more  of  good 
English,  crispy,  crackling  notes. 


864  MISS   DEVEREtJX   OF   THE   MARt^UlTA. 

' ' We  regret  to  have  been  obliged  to  address  Miss  Lyndon 
in  such  positive  terms,"  began  the  manager. 

"Oh,  I'm  quite  sure  of  it,"  cheerfully  answered  Otis, 
giving  him  a  cold  stare,  which  caused  the  banker  to  mut- 
ter, "That  fellow  is  an  American  desperado;"  but  John 
Wayne  Otis  did  not  care,  for  he  was  already  spinning 
away  along  the  boulevard  after  he  had  sent  a  brief  dis- 
patch to  Miss  Lyndon,  which  stated:  "  All  amicably  ar- 
ranged.   Choose  your  own  time.    Back  to-morrow  evening. v 

He  wandered  out  in  a  most  satisfied  frame  of  mind.  In 
his  room  he  carefully  tied  up  the  letter  and  the  banker's 
receipt,  with  the  bit  of  blue  ribbon  Avhich  he  had  guarded, 
and  then  deeply  ensconced  the  packet  in  an  inner  pocket,  di- 
rectly against  the  corded  muscles  of  his  manly  breast. 

The  genial  recording  angel  smiled  from  above  and 
deliberately  laid  downhis  stylus.  "  Good  boy,  Jack!"  he 
authoritatively  remarked.  "Your  current  account  is  all 
right.  The  end  justifies  the  means,"  and  the  clerical  seraph, 
then  cast  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  other  erring  mortals, 
and  made  very  light  marks  all  day,in  honor  of  the  frank  man- 
hood of  that  ' '  genial  malignant, ' '  brother  Jack.  < « They're 
not  such  a  bad  lot  after  all,"  mused  the  angel,  looking 
down  with  a  charitable  smile  on  us  poor  worms  below. 

There  was  a  vast  deal  of  conjecture  on  the  San  Fran- 
cisco Stock  Exchange  as  to  the  reported  sale  of  the  "  Lone 
Star  "  in  London.  The  great  financial  storm  had  blown 
over,  and  the  eddies  and  whirls  of  speculation  seethed  and 
bubbled  as  of  yore  in  Pine  street  and  upon  California 
street  and  in  the  alleys  adjacent  thereunto,  as  well  as  the 
sidewalks,  nay  the  very  gutters.  The  journals  and  the 
society  columns  were  redolent  of  the  perfections  of  the 
"four  kings,"  for  the  shadowy  crown  which  dropped 
from  the  brow  of  the  dead  banker,  Ralston,  was  now 
broken  up.     Its  jewels  divided,  but  undimmed  in  luster, 


A    FLAW    IN   THE   DEED.  305 

gleamed  upon  four  alien  brows.  The  losses  "readjusted 
themselves;"  broken  hearts  were  slowly  vulcanized  to  a 
contented  poverty,  or  thrilled  in  the  craze  of  drink. 
Some,  alas!  ceased  their  agonized  beatings  in  the  suicide's 
forgotten  grave.  On  the  whole,  the  market  had  entered 
upon  a  healthier  condition.  An  upheaval  was  confidently 
predicted.  The  "funeral  truths,"  turned  end  for  end  and 
revamped,  furnished  forth  the  "wedding  breakfast,"  for 
King  Bank  of  California  was  dead,  and  King  "  Bonanza" 
reigned  instead. 

The  "reaching  forth"  for  the  coin  of  the  gullible  was 
deftly  continued,  and  the  swish,  swirl  and  glitter  of 
society  sparkled  around  the  yawning  man-traps  of  the 
stock  exchanges  as  of  yore;  new  faces  at  the  Western 
Monte  Carlo,  but,  the  same  old  deadly  unerring  "  deal  "  on 
the  unvarying  principle,  "heads  t  win,  tails  you  lose." 
The  pepper  box  of  fortune  rudely  shaken  sifted  out  strange 
and  peculiarly  aromatic  grains,  but  on  the  ringing  golden 
wheels  of  twenty-dollar  pieces,  the  car  of  civic  progress 
rolled  along  in  its  usual  occidental  fashion,  with  fits  and 
starts. 

Mr.  Waldo  Strong  was  busied  late  in  his  office,  and 
divided  his  evenings  between  Inspector  Stanton  and  the 
genial  bank  manager. 

"See  here,  Strong!"  said  the  great  financier  of  the 
"Anglo."  "You  must  get  your  guns  soon  ready  for 
action,  I've  a  dispatch  that  Wyman  himself  will  be  here 
in  a  week." 

"  I'll  be  ready  for  him  then,  double  shotted,"  grimly 
answered  the  lawyer.  « '  I  have  my  cases  arranged  so  I 
can  take  a  few  days.  I  have  also  spotted  him  by  telegrams 
from  Paris  and  New  York.  I  will  go  up  the  road,  lay 
over  at  Truckee  and  at  Reno,  and  let  him  pass  me.  Then, 
I'll  turn  around  and  follow  him  down.     I  do  not  wish  to 


366  MISS   DEVEREUX   OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

be  in  Virginia  City  when  he  is  there.  I  will  give  you  a 
written  opinion,  a  very  brief  one,  on  which  you  can 
offically  tell  him  why  the  title  of  his  mine  is  rejected." 

The  banker  mused :  "It's  a  pity  for  us  London  men 
that  he  does  not  own  it.  It  is  a  magnificient  property, 
our  expert  says,  and  the  north  end  is  now  giving  wonder- 
ful indications.  There  are  five  or  six  hundred  feet  of  the 
<  Lone  Star  '  still  unexplored  in  that  direction. " 

"I'll  find  out  the  true  inwardness  of  the  whole  affair," 
grimly  smiled  Strong.  ' '  Give  me  that  secret  order  to 
Wells,  Fargo  &  Co.'s  bank  and  Express,  to  show  me  their 
records  in  Nevada  and  at  Truckee.  That's  all  I  want. 
Stanton  has  obtained  the  pictures  of  these  three  worthies, 
and,  his  postal  clerks  will  telegraph  him  daily  Wyman's 
location  on  the  overland  railway.  I  will  get  the  news  at 
the  Truckee  and  Virginia  City  Postoffices,  and  my  own 
detective  is  now  at  Virginia  City.  Oh!  I'll  roast  the 
villain. " 

The  lawyer  unlocked  his  safe.  "Keep  that  till  he 
forces  it  from  you.  It  has  the  key  of  the  rejection  in  its 
few  words;  and  if  he  falls  into  the  trap,  as  I  think  he  will, 
then,  we  have  him  ready  for  prison  stripes,"  Waldo  Strong 
said,  with  a  pitiless  curl  of  his  lips. 

As  the  banker  walked  homeward,  he  muttered:  "That 
lawyer  chap  is  a  cold  and  unforgiving  enemy.  He  has 
got  it  in  for  Mr.  Wyman. " 

Inspector  Stanton,  strolling  in  to  smoke  an  evening  pipe, 
electrified  Strong,  who  was  still  pacing  the  office  floor  like 
a  panther. 

He^  casually  said:  "  By  the  way,  I  met  that  remarkable 
party,  Andy  Bowen.  He  is  down  here  on  a  little  visit. 
He  is  going  to  stay  a  few  days.  He  is  still  ignorant  of 
this  trouble,  for  he  laughed  out  when  I  asked  for  Wyman." 

"Oh!     Having  a  jolly  time  in  Paris.     Guess  he'll  stay 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  367 

there  all  winter.  He  is  opening  up  the  mine  slowly.  He 
made  enough  on  his  last  eute  deal,  to  last  him  several 
years. " 

The  lawyer's  eyes  flashed  fire  as  he  thought  of  his 
heedless  ruin.  Speculation  had  withered  the  fruit  of  ten 
years'  hard  professional  work. 

"I  asked  him  in  an  idle  way  about  Devereux,  "  con- 
tinued Stanton. 

"'He  was  a  very  nice  fellow,'  remarked  Andy.  'A 
sickly  chap;  oh  yes,  I  remember  him  well.  A  kind  of  a 
clerk  or  business  man;  and  he  had  a  nice  little  woman  and 
child,  too,  down  here  at  the  Bay.  He  was  always  talking 
of  his  wife  "Mary."  I  know  he  named  the  mine  "  Mari- 
quita  "  for  her.  There  was  another  claim  with  the  English 
name,  and  we  put  it  into  "  greaser  "  Spanish.  And  he  also 
had  a  little  girl  named  "  Hope."  That  I  remember,  for  he 
showed  me  her  picture.'  " 

"Go  on,  go  on! "cried  Strong,  now  wild  with  excite- 
ment. 

"  '  Oh,  yes.  He  left  Virginia  in  the  spring  of  'sixty-three, 
and  went  down  to  Holman's  Ranch.  Never  heard  of  him 
afterwards,'  so  Andy  finally  said."  After  a  drink  had 
warmed  him  up,  the  iDspector  slowly  said,  looking  at  some 
memory  notes:  "And  then,  Bowen  woundup,  'Wyman 
followed  him  and  bought  out  his  three-quarter  interest.  I 
wanted  to  get  a  hack  at  that  mine  myself,  but  Steve 
Berard  had  a  kind  of  an  interest  in  it  with  Wyman  when 
he  was  killed.'  'Who?'  said  I,  'Berard  or  Devereux?' 
'Bless  you,'  roared  Andy,  'Devereux  wasn't  killed.  He 
went  down  to  'Frisco  and  I  guess  went  home  East,  or  went 
into  some  business.  Leastways,  he  didn't  die  in  Nevada; 
not  that  I  know  of.'  So  you  see,  Brother  Strong,  this 
big  fellow  never  heard  of  Devereux's  death."  The  in- 
spector was  now  eager,  "  Who  kept  it  quiet,  and  why?" 


368  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MAR1QUJLTA. 

"  That  is  for  me  to  find  out! "  replied  the  lawyer,  as  he 
grasped  the  inspector's  hand.  "  Now,  Billy,  I  must  do  a 
bit  of  writing,  and  get  ready  for  my  trip.  I  depend  on 
you  to  watch  Wyman  till  I  return.  When  he  comes,  your 
men  have  all  got  your  private  tips." 

Stanton  nodded.  "Good  luck,  old  man.  I'll  go  over 
to  Oakland  with  you  in  the  morning."  He  disappeared 
murmuring,  "I'm  glad  this  thing  will  come  to  a  head 
soon,  for  Strong  will  surely  go  crazy  over  this  whole  mys- 
tery, unless  we  reach  a  crisis,"  and  he  then,  disappeared  in 
the  night. 

But,  the  lawyer  was  still  walking  the  office,  an  hour  later. 
"I  see  the  whole  villainy.  Wyman  robbed  his  murdered 
partner,  Berard,  who  had  assassinated  Devereux  so  as  to 
steal  his  mine  for  the  two  thieves.  He  was  cut  off  by  chance 
in  his  tide  of  fortune,  but,  oh,  my  God!  I  must,  I  will 
find  Hope  Devereux,  the  missing  child.  She  must  be 
alive  somewhere  in  the  wide  West,  and  she  may  need  her 
million.     She  shall  have  it,  too!  " 

At  that  very  moment  Gladys  Lyndon,  in  the  quiet  of 
her  London  apartment,  had  been  looking,  with  a  strange 
yearning,  at  the  details  of  what  has  been  her  town  life,  in 
the  San  Francisco  newspapers,  furnished  by  the  hypocriticial 
kindness  of  Mrs.  Milly  Hammond.  The  girl's  mind  now 
was  freed  of  its  haunting  money  cares,  and  the  shadow  of 
shame  had  been  lifted  from  her  future.  < '  I  can  pay  it  all 
off  this  winter,  easily,"  she  joyously  cried.  Jack  Otis 
had  explained  how  ' '  perfectly  agreeable  "  it  would  be  to 
replace  the  funds  "at  any  reasonable  future  time."  "I 
had  it  set  aside  for  you  as  a  special  matter,  and  to  relieve 
you  of  uneasiness]  I  brought  a  full  receipt  on  the  Wyman 
account;  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  simply  ignore  any  letters 
or  references  of  those  people. "  In  some  haste  he  had  left 
her,  in  the  hope  to  find  that  a  possible  fortunate  arrange- 


A    FLAW    IN    THE   DEED.  369 

ment  of  his  affairs  might  prevent  a  home  voyage.  He  had 
' '  his  reasons  "  for  remaining  in  London,  to  <  <  complete  his 
studies."  So  sitting  alone,  bright  hearted  and  happy,  the 
girl's  mind  had  drifted  far  away  back  to  California. 

An  especially  prominent  advertisement  attracted  her  eye 
in  the  paper  she  read.  Its  head  lines  "Devereux!  Dever- 
eux.  Information  Wanted,"  were  enough  to  bring  the 
blood  rushing  to  her  cheeks,  and,  when  she  had  finished 
reading  it,  amazement  was  written  upon  her  face.  « '  Can 
this  be  truth  or  only  a  dream?"  she  said  as  her  childhood, 
with  all  its  roll  of  sorrow,  swept  back  upon  her  once  more. 

Long,  long  did  the  lonely  woman  jjace  the  floor  before 
she  could  decide  to  face  the  uncertain  seas  of  fate. 
"Should  she  answer,  or  not?"  "What  can  Fortune  hold  in 
store  for  poor  orphaned  Hope  Devereux,  the  child  of  con- 
vent charity?"  she  cried  through  her  tears  and  the  words 
' «  Mother,  mother ! ' '  were  lovingly  murmured,  as  she 
thought  of  a  far-away  grave. 

Her  singing  name  had  been  selected  in  deference  to  the 
wishes  of  the  good  nuns  who  always  piously  discour- 
aged all  public  careers  for  women,  especially  the  unholy 
art  of  music.  The  dance,  song,  and  the  tempting  theater 
were  regarded  by  these  unmolested  good  Samaritans  as 
only  broad  roads  to  the  bottomless  pit.  She  knew  not 
that  her  own  mortal  enemy  had  unwillingly  placed  his 
very  deadliest  foe  upon  the  lost  trail,  which  led  his  banded 
enemies  back  to  the  mystery  of  the  "Mariquita"  mine. 
The  Hammond  woman  had  ruined  her  paramour  in  trying 
to  serve  his  cowardly  revenge. 

Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  was  a  morose  and  moody  man, 
as  he  whirled  along  westwardly  accompanied  by  his 
gloomy  thoughts.  He  was  not  an  unmindful  lover,  for 
at  each  principal  city  he  daily  dispatched  his  greeting  to 
Miss  Minnie  Buford  by  cable.      "It  will  serve  to  make  the 


370  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

General  feel  I  am  only  a  sighing,  happy  lover,  not  a  man 
fighting  in  the  dark  for  a  debated  million.  But,"  he 
finally  decided,  "I  have  played  my  cards  to  win.  What 
in  the  devil  is  behind  this  matter?  I  don't  know. 
Wilder  telegraphs  me,  there  is  nothing  yet  new.  I  sup- 
pose it  is  only  after  all  some  pig-headed  objection  of  this 
Englishman,  who  demands  Her  Majesty's  patent." 

The  cool  young  operator  stopped  suddenly.  "  By  Jove 
I  have  not  yet  myself  obtained  a  United  States  patent.  It 
may  be  only  that,  perhaps  a  mere  formality.  Ah!  I  had 
neglected  that."  He  was  thoughtful  for  a  whole  day. 
Several  tourists  of  his  bowing  acquaintance  had  already 
decided  ' '  that  Wyman  had  lost  himself  in  a  fit  of  puff ed- 
up  vanity,  since  his  '  Lone  Star  '  deal." 

As  the  train  rolled  across  the  muddy  Missouri,  and  be- 
gan to  race  down  the  Platte  valley,  the  borderer  dropped 
all  memories  of  Milly  Hammond,  all  vain  regrets  for  the 
chasm  now  dividing  him  forever  from  the  beautiful  Gladys, 
and  even  ignored  that  human  glass  of  absinthe,  his 
sprightly  fiancee. 

"I  must  not  make  one  false  step,"  he  reflected.  "  In  a 
stock  deal,  the  man  who  deliberates  is  a  'goner,'  like 
'the  woman  who  hesitates.'  I  must  be  ready  to  fight 
this  with  a  cool  nerve." 

"That's  the  devil  of  American  wealth,"  he  sneered.    "A 

fLmble,  a  struggle,  a  life  and  death  intrigue  to  get  it,  an,d, 
e  devil's  own  job  to  hold  it." 

He  strangely  never  suspected  Waldo  Strong.  "  It  may 
be  some  beach-combing  journalist,  some  'smart  Aleck'  who 
wishes  to  '  bluff '  me  into  a  fat  compromise.  But,  suppose 
they  should  really  produce  some  one  to  represent  the 
shadowy  Devereux  title?  I  mast  have  a  good  lawyer.  I 
absolutely  must  own  the  judge  who  tries  the  case.  Now, 
if  Vinnie,  damn  her,  were  only  here,  I  could  use  her.     She 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  3*71 

could  twist  old  Merrick  around  her  finger;  and  he  is  the 
only  lawyer  in  Nevada  who  will  '  stay  bought '  when  you 
have  '  bought  him  once.'  Is  her  finger  in  this  pie?  No," 
he  reluctantly  admitted.  "  She  only  makes  a  fool  of  her- 
self over  that  drunken  scoundrel  Hooper.  There's  nothing 
in  it,  but  revenge  for  him.  Bah!  it  surely  can't  be  him. 
He  would  be  chased  over  the  world." 

After  passing  Salt  Lake,  Wyman  who  "faced  the  music " 
now  like  a  man,  had  decided  to  retain  Judge  Merrick, 
that  walking  encyclopedia,  as  counsel,  and  then  get  a 
"working  lawyer"  to  assist  under  his  own  eye.  "But, 
but,"  the  young  conspirator  owned  to  himself,  "this  thing 
will  at  last  depend  upon  the  judge  who  tries  it.  Only  one 
human  being  can  help  me,  and  that  is  old  Hiram,  for  he 
and  his  great  associates  own  the  judge,  body  and  soul." 

Mr.  Wyman  was  well  aware  of  the  inner  light  of  this 
poker-playing  legal  luminary,  who  might  soon  pass  upon  his 
title  to  a  hard  won  fortune.  Strange  whispers  of  the 
malleability  of  this  oily  official  were  furtively  bandied 
about,  but  under  the  hushed  breath.  He  played  an  even- 
handed  game  with  the  bar,  he  practiced  a  little  "before 
it,"  and,  if  unscrupulous,  his  ability  raised  him  above  all 
detailed  attack,  and  a  great  banded  money  monopoly  now 
backed  him  up.  * '  The  quality  of  mercy  "  lingered  not  in 
his  cold,  gray  eye.  "  If  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  I 
will  cable  for  Hiram,  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  to  him,  and 
have  him  buy  this  one  man's  decision." 

Frederick  Wyman  decided  to  keep  intact  his  parchment 
piles  of  bond  reserves.  "They  will  have  to  go  pretty  high 
to  outbid  me,"  he  grimly  smiled.  And  fearful  of  losing 
prestige  with  Buford,  as  well  as  the  ineffable  happiness  of 
escorting  Miss  Minnie,  resplendent  in  laces  and  orange 
blossoms,  into  the  Golden  house  on  Nob  Hill  as  his  wife, 
he  decided  to  develop  at  once  his  unknown  enemy. 


372  Miss  devereux  of  the  mariquita. 

"They  will  find  me  silent  in  my  breastworks,  and  have 
to  fight  to  the  death  to  blow  me  out  of  them,"  and  so, with 
an  eagle  eye,  he  measured  look  and  deportment,  as  he 
neared  the  Nevada  line.  "I  ought  to  have  some  one  to 
depend  on  now,"  he  mused.  Wilder,  Brown,  Hopkins, 
any  of  them,  might  become  dangerous,  but,  I  was  a  fool  to 
leave  Morani  away  there  in  London ;  and  yet,  if  he  can  trace 
down  Hooper!  I  will  be  repaid  if  I  can  only  land  that 
scoundrel  in  prison  should  a  trial  come  on  out  here.  There, 
chained  up,  he  is  harmless." 

For,  Mr.  Wyman  had  made  up  his  mind  to  reimburse  all 
the  liberal  "preliminary  expenses,"  in  London,  placate 
General  Buford,  and  let  the  great  scheme  of  "working 
the  London  market"  goby  for  a  time.  "  If  I  hold  my  own, 
satisfy  Buford,  and  win  his  daughter  as  my  wife,  I  am 
forever  'one  of  the  upper  crust,'"  he  laughed,  and  I'll  give 
the  old  man  a  good  show  in  the  mine.  By  jove!  I  can  put 
enough  stock  in  his  name,  after  I  marry  the  girl.  We  can 
open  the  north  ground,  and  dig  out  enough  extra  to  make 
me  forget  this.  So,  Morani  can  come  home  at  once  if  he 
can't  trace  Hooper  out,  but  I  am  a  wife,  and  a  mighty 
smart  one,  ahead  anyway. " 

Wyman  became  excited  as  he  neared  Virginia  City,  for 
the  news  of  a  wonderful  discovery  on  the  north  end  of  his 
mine,  was  heralded  in  the  Elko  newspaper,  ' '  an  ore 
body  of  surpassing  richness  and  supposed  to  dip  into  the 
i  Lone  Star.'"  "  Shall  I  go  to  Virginia  City  or  run  on  to 
San  Francisco?"  he  mused.  After  an  hour's  deliberation, 
he  decided  that  he  would  be  at  a  great  disadvantage  alone 
in  Virginia  City.  "  I  will  have  all  the  gossips  down  on  me. 
Who  knows  what  spies  may  dog  me,  and  in  my  own 
headquarters,  I  have  a  good  working  corps  at  hand,  and 
can  calmly  watch  these  fellows  develop  whatever  game 
they  have. 


A   FLAW    IN   THE   DEED.  373 

So  it  was  only  two  days  later,  with  the  smiling  air  of  a 
returned  social  Alexander,  he  looked  in  at  all  his  clubs,  at 
once  sent  a  brief  note  to  the  manager  of  the  "Anglo" 
Bank  asking  for  an  appointment,  and  then  discussed  a 
raffine  dinner  while  listening  one  after  another  to  the 
skeleton  reports  of  Brown,  Hopkins,  and  the  annoyed  and 
disturbed  Wilder. 

When  the  two  men  were  left  alone  to  their  wine, 
Wilder  said,  gravely:  "Mr.  Wyman,  you  must  give  me 
now  some  definite  orders  as  to  what  basis  you  want  the 
'Lone  Star'  manipulated  on  <  in  the  Board.'  I've  risked 
my  own  coin,  to  hold  the  fort  in  your  absence." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?  are  you  faint-hearted?  " 
sneered  Wyman,  who  had  heard  nothing  of  any  trouble 
but  the  simple  advertisment  query,  and  the  decided  rejec- 
tion (without  explanation),  of  the  mine's  title,  by  the 
bank. 

"  I  want  either  a  sound  guarantee  with  a  deposit,  or 
coin  daily  paid  at  three  o'clock,  to  square  each  day's  trans- 
actions," stoutly  said  Horace  Wilder,  who  seemed  a  bit 
irascible.  He  had  felt  the  distance  unconsciously  as- 
sumed by  the  new  "society  light,"  for  the  "  engagement" 
gave  a  shining  aureole  to  Wyman's  handsome  head.  An- 
other crowned  snob. 

"Perhaps  I  had  better  change  my  broker?"  harshly 
cried  Wyman. 

"  Perhaps!  "  replied  Wilder  with  a  peculiar  smile,  as  he 
promptly  grasped  his  hat,  cane  and  gloves,  and  sallied 
forth  alone.  Wyman  let  him  go  away  still  unanswered 
and  ruffled. 

"There  sneaks  away  the  first  frightened  rat!"  growled 
Wyman,  "  but,  the  ship  is  not  sinking.  Not  yet!  "  As 
he  threw  himself  on  his  luxurious  bed  after  the  last  of  his 
underlings  had  left  him,  Wyman  lay  long  with  his  gleam- 


374  MISS    DEVEREUX    OP    THE    MARIQUITA. 

ing  eyes  fixed  upon  the  painted  loveliness  of  Vinnie  Hin- 
ton  floating  there  above  him.  The  "  half -cryin'  eyes " 
seemed  to  call  back  the  clays  of  love's  witchery  which 
brought  a  sigh,  for  he  murmured,  "  You  were  always  my 
luck,  Vinnie.  You  swept  the  field  for  me,  and,  I  would 
sooner  have  you  here,  near  me,  in  my  arms  to-night,  than 
all  the  paid  advice  that  coin  can  give,  for  crooked  as 
your  wild  life  has  been,  you  are  the  only  'dead  square' 
one  in  the  whole  lot,"  and,  he  drained  a  larger  glass  of 
cognac  than  he  knew,  for  the  sun  was  streaming  through 
his  windows  before  the  strange  attendant  dared  to  rouse 
him  from  a  sleep  of  exhaustion. 

He  was  now  on  the  field  of  action  and  within  the  enemy's 
territory.  "Who  the  devil  can  be  behind  this?  That 
fellow  Strong  has  had  no  mining  practice.  Wilder  tells 
me  that  he  is  in  the  courts  every  day,  digging  away  for 
his  board  money,  and  Jumbo,  Boardman  &  Harrigan 
have  always  been  the  bank's  lawyers.  I  suppose  they  are 
all  at  sea,  sailing  around  a  fly  speck.  Well,  the  manager's 
letter  will  soon  develop  the  game."  He  growled  out  for 
his  man,  and,  it  was  a  first  bad  omen  for  him  that  he  had 
to  send  twice  for  Mr.  Horace  Wilder  before  the  « *  Board  " 
opened. 

"Why  didn't  you  come  as  usual?"  demanded  Wyman. 

' '  I  thought  that  you  were  going  to  have  another 
broker,"  quietly  said  Wilder,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  on  the  "street,"  Wyman  operated  "under  condi- 
tions."    It  was  check  number  one,  to  his  rising  vanity. 

While  he  awaited  his  morning  mail,  Waldo  Strong, 
that  eminent  counselor,  was  seated  on  the  piazza  of  the 
Truckee  Hotel,  engaged  in  swopping  "bear  and  trout" 
stories  with  the  genial  landlord. 

"  I  didn't  reckon  ye'd  find  yer  way  back,"  the  host  re- 
marked, setting  down  his  glass. 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  375 

"Oh,  I  have  to  run  up  to  Elko,  and  I  wanted  to  see 
about  my  next  vacation  hunt,"  the  lawyer  lightly  replied. 
He  had  left  San  Francisco  on  the  positive  telegram  that 
Wyman  had  passed  Truckee,  and  when  he  strolled  over 
to  the  Postoffice,  he  had  in  readiness  a  secret  ally  there 
in  Stanton's  confrere,  an  under  official  of  the  Postoffice 
department. 

"Let  us  walk  around  the  town  a  bit,"  the  secret  friend 
said,  as  they  meandered  among  stumps  and  movable 
creeks.  "  We  are  at  least  free  from  being  overheard.  I 
have  had  all  the  Wells,  Fargo  records  looked  over,  and  I 
brought  the  one  record  book  you  wish  to  use,  over  to  the 
office.  I  have  there  a  room  where  no  one  can  see  you  for 
I  had  it  built  of  double  two-inch  planks  crossed,  to  keep 
out  snow,  bears,  pistol  balls,  the  drunken  lumbermen,  and 
other  all-around  happenings.  By  the  way,  there's  your 
notary  now,  pointing  to  the  'Blue  Wing.'  Better  catch 
him  before  you  find  him  '  too  full  for  utterance.'" 

Mr.  Waldo  Strong  led  in  the  "  bear  hunt "  as  a  topic, 
after  introduction,  and  with  judicious  spiritual  consolation, 
was  secretly  delighted  to  find  the  man's  mind  and  memory 
still  good.  The  Postmaster  was  an  old  friend,  and  with 
genial  bar-keeper  to  aid,  Mr.  Strong  was  speedily  at  home 
in  Truckee.  But,  it  was  the  official  himself,  who  led  up  to 
the  now  living  topic  of  the  great  rich  strike  on  the  north 
end,  and  the  greatly  enhanced  value  of  the  "  Lone  Star." 
The  future  fortune  of  Wyman,  and  the  fame  of  his  ap- 
proaching marriage,  filled  the  Virginia  City  papers. 

"He's  a  rastler,"  the  man  of  many  fortunes  said,  nod- 
ding for  a  refilling  of  his  glass,  "is  that  same  Wyman. 
I'm  told  he  goes  way  into  the  millions  now.  And,  as  I 
told  Andy  Bowen  only  the  other  day — you  know  big  Andy, 
everybody  knows  Andy,"  the  notary  gulped  his  words 
with  his  drink,  « '  I  certified  the  deed  to  that  mine  right 


376  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

here  in  Truckee,  for  five  hundred  dollars.     By  God,  that's 
luck!     That's  nigger  luck !  " 

"  Pshaw!  Nonsense!"  defiantly  remarked  the  Postmas- 
ter.     "  You're  blowing!" 

Strong  was  quietly  examining  the  handsome  barkeeper 
who,  moving  to  the  end  of  the  bar,  said  sotto  voce  in 
apology,  "  Thut  fellow's  the  damnedest  liar  in  Truckee, 
and  that's  saying  a  good  deal." 

"  I  have  got  the  papers  to  prove  it!  "  remarked  the  irate 
notary,  "and,  I  won  a  box  of  cigars,  too,  from  Andy.  He 
said  the  mine's  name  was  the  '  Lone  Star,'  and  I  went  to  my 
book,  and  showed  it  to  be  the  '  Mariquita.'  I  got  the  cigars, 
too.  You  see  the  papers  was  sent  to  Virginia  and  recorded, 
and  they  came  back  here,  for  Devereux  went  on  down  to 
San  Francisco  first,  and  Wyman  came  back  and  got  the 
papers.  I  know  it  cost  him  a  hundred  dollars  for  the 
record  and  the  certified  copy,  and  he  kept  the  original. 
Didn't  want  to  lose  it.  I  sent  the  papers  up  to  Virginia 
myself." 

"  What's  become  of  Devereux?  1  knew  him  once.  I 
suppose  it's  the  same  man.  I've  lost  sight  of  him  for  a 
year  or  so.  I  thought  he  was  up  here.  I  want  to  see  him 
myself  about  an  old  matter."  Strong  was  very  deliberate 
in  his  casual  remarks. 

"  I've  never  seen  him  since  he  went  down  to  'Frisco  that 
time.  I'd  know  him  among  a  thousand,  for  he  could  punish 
more  whisky  than  I  can,"  laughed  the  stubborn  notary. 

"Was  that  the  man? "  said  Strong,  throwing  down  a 
picture  on  the  card  table  as  he  went  to  the  glass  case  and 
selected  some  cigars. 

"Not  by  a  jug  full!"  shouted  the  half  drunken  notary. 
"Any  damned  fool  would  know  that's  Wyman,  'lucky 
Wyman,'  only,  it's  a  heap  better  looking  than  he  is.  He's 
too  puffed  up  to  patronize  Truckee  hotels  now.     I  guess 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  377 

he'll  do  the  '  private  car '  act  soon,  like  some  men  I  knew 
once  swinging  a  pick  at  three  dollars  a  day.  Good  God! 
they're  lords  of  the  earth  now.  No,  that's  Frederick 
Wyman,  Esq." 

"  Ah!  Now  you  are  talking  turkey,  stranger!  That's  Mr. 
Robert  Devereux  and  I  saw  him  get  the  clean  stuff,  five 
hundred  dollars  in  yellow  twenties,  for  his  interest.  I  know, 
for  I  watched  him  and  won  one  of  them.  Yes,  that's  him. 
Devereux  must  have  struck  a  streak  of  luck.  He  was  pretty 
shabby  then,  and  I  remember  he  wore  a  sailor  cap  with  gold 
anchor  buttons  on  it.  I  found  one  of  them  in  the  office  and  I 
was  going  to  give  it  to  Wyman, but  the  jewelers  here  told  me 
it  was  only  gold  washed.  Why  I've  got  the  papers  now,  to 
show  for  the  record.  Devereux  signed  the  deed  in  my 
very  presence  according  to  law.  No,  it  was  a  square  trans- 
action. What  a  lucky  stroke  for  Wyman.  He's  a  big 
man  now." 

"Well you  picked  out  the  right  man,"  quietly  laughed 
Strong.      "  You  have  a  very  good  memory." 

"  I  remember  it  mighty  well,  and  I've  often  talked  it 
over  with  the  Wells,  Fargo's  agent.  Old  Schwartz  was  my 
head  agent  then,  I  was  only  assistant,  and  he's  right  over 
there  now.  We  had  a  talk  all  three  of  us,  about  sending 
up  the  certified  copy  to  Virginia."  And  so,  the  triumphant 
notary  dragged  the  two  men  over  to  H.  Schwartz  &  Co.'s 
store  and  later,  exhibited  his  official  books.     It  was  true! 

When  Mr.  Waldo  Strong  left  Truckee  that  afternoon  it 
was  with  a  promise  to  return  and  join  all  the  boys  in  a 
grand  outing.  He  was  waved  off  by  a  friendly  delegation, 
for  "bear  and  trout"  stories  and  good  old  Bourbon 
whisky  had  whiled  away  the  golden  afternoon.  It  was 
with  a  joyful  heart,  the  lawyer  ran  on  to  Carson  and  was 
one  of  three  or  four,  who  descended  from  the  train  at  the 
straggling  hamlet  of  Willows  Cross  Roads. 


378  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE   MARIQUITA. 

"  Seems  to  be  an  old  tinier  and  a  very  nice  fellow,"  re- 
marked the  storekeeper  the  next  morning,  as  Strong 
boarded  the  Virginia  City  train.  "  lie  looks  prosperous. 
I  suppose  he  has  made  his  pile  since  the  old  days.  Dear 
me!  I  had  forgotten  the  dates.  How  time  flies!  "  for  over 
a  hot  Scotch  and  good  Havana,  the  circle  around  the  box 
stove  had  rehearsed  the  old  story  of  the  killing  of  the 
friendless  stranger  by  Steve  Berard,  in  that  very  dingy 
bar-room. 

' '  I  remember  the  boys  were  going  to  put  him  up  a  fence 
and  a  headboard,"  said  the  one  time  clerk  of  the  store, 
"  for,  I  wrote  down  the  name  and  the  date  in  the  back  of 
our  ledger.  I  was  bookkeeper  then.  It  was  before  I  went 
into  business  for  myself.  Their  enthusiasm  cooled  off. 
They  soon  forgot  him." 

With  a  bit  of  good-humored  banter, the  lawyer  was  one 
of  an  amused  crowd  who  saw  the  old  books  brought  down 
and  the  inscription  found.  "I wrote  it  myself,  'Robert 
Devereux,'  from  a  letter  which  we  found  in  his  pocket, 
from  his  wife,  too.  I  was  on  the  Coroner's  jury.  She  must 
have  been  a  very  nice  woman.  It  was  a  kindly,  loving 
letter,"  said  the  well-to-do  middle  aged  man. 

"What  became  of  the  letter?  "said  Strong,  his  eyes 
sparkling. 

"Squire  Holman  took  away  the  whole  thing,"  said  the 
casual  visitor  rising. 

"And,  I  will  tell  you  it  was  a  damned  shame!"  cried  a 
deep  voice,  as  a  big  teamster  knocked  out  his  pipe,  and 
then  slowly  prepared  to  refill  it,  cutting  off  his  tobacco  from 
a  huge  plug  with  a  big  bowie-knife.  Everyone  started  as 
"  Big  Aleck"  chipped  in;  for,  he  was  a  man  of  very  few 
words.  "  I  was  only  a  raw  boy  then  and  hauling  for  old 
Holman.  I  tell  you  that  man  Devereux  never  drew  his 
pistol.     He  hadn't  none." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  cried  a  dozen  curious  voices. 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  3  79 

"I  had  seen  that  old  robber  Holman  carry  that  same 
pistol  himself,  and  he  dropped  it  under  the  dying  man.  He 
whipped  it  off  the  bar,  and  then  lied  about  it.  I  seen  him 
carry  it  around  the  ranch  afterwards  himself." 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell?  "  all  cried,  and  Strong  started 
up. 

"I  was  af eared  to.  I  was  only  a  timid  boy  and  old 
Holman  used  to  whip  me.  He's  dead  and  gone  now,  the 
old  scoundrel,  but,  I  saw  Mother  Louisa,  the  dear,good,old 
woman,  often  cryin'  at  this  poor  man's  grave.  It  was  a 
dirty, put-up  job.  She  used  to  steal  out  there  alone  when 
Holman  wuz  away,  and  cry  and  pray.  This  yere  Devereux 
was  a  right  decent  man.  I  used  to  go  a  fishin'  with  him. 
He  was  gentle  and  quiet  an'  sickly.  I  know  where  he's 
buried  now,  and  I've  piled  big  rocks  on  the  grave,  to  keep 
the  coyotes  away,  many  a  time." 

"  Well,  Berard  got  it  in  the  back  of  the  neck,"  cried  a 
wrathful  one. 

"  It  was  a  bloody  shame,"  said  the  teamster,  rising,  as 
his  hungry  mules  outside,  shook  their  brazen  bells. 

<  'Was  that  like  Devereux?  "  said  Strong,  holding  out 
Hooper's  picture,  the  "Truckee  Devereux." 

"No  more'n  I  look  like  him,"  flatly  cried  the  teamster. 
"  Devereux  was  a  delicate  kind  of  man,  gentle  and  sickly 
lookin'.  This  man's  a  sort  of  a  sport,  bigger, younger,  and 
heaps  better  lookin'.  No,  siree!  Devereux  was  a  little 
man,  and  light  complexioned.  Fetch  me  his  real  picture, 
and  a  dozen  men  here,  can  pick  him  out  as  well  as  me. 
That's  not  him,  oh,  no!  "  and  big  Aleck  strolled  away. 

The  lawyer  was  now  eager  to  verify  only  his  last  vital 
facts,  at  Virginia  City.  He  busied  himself  with  other  mat- 
ters and  dared  not  pursue  his  personal  inquiries  too  far,  for 
he  might  be  spotted.  Wyman  was  no  fool.  It  was  only 
when  nearing  Virginia  City  that  he   finally  cast  up  all  his 


380  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE   MARIQUITA. 

new  proofs.  "The  personation  of  the  dead  man  by 
Hooper  is  positive.  By  heavens!  I  will  find  Hooper.  I 
must  find  him."  With  a  prudence  suggested  by  Wyman's 
growing  prestige,  the  counselor  had  telegraphed  to  his  de- 
tective to  meet  him  at  Gold  Hill. 

Down  on  the  neck  of  the  divide  the  two  men  wandered 
away,  as  the  dying  sun  lit  up  the  bare  five  miles  of  stony 
spurs,  embosoming  there  a  thousand  millions. 

"  You  need  not  waste  any  more  time  here,"  the  secret 
agent  said.  "I  have  traced  up  all  the  Wells,  Fargo  & 
Co.'s  books.  I  found  the  transaction  only  after  days  of 
search.  This  Steve  Berard  deposited  ten  thousand  dollars 
to  the  credit  of  Frederick  Wyman  a  few  weeks  after  the 
murder,  and  just  before  he  was  killed  himself,  by  the  Vigi- 
lantes. The  returned  checks  and  endorsements  show  that 
Wyman  built  his  first  little  works,  with  that  same  money." 

After  a  half  hour,  Strong  arose  and  gazed  up  at  the 
darkening  skies. 

"I  will  make  it  a  cold  day  for  you,  Frederick  Wyman," 
he  fiercely  cried.  "Thief,  conspirator,  utterer  of  forged 
documents,  perjurer,  and  accessory  to  murder — even  a 
robber  of  the  game  scoundrel,  who  killed  Devereux." 

"See  here,"  he  cried  to  his  agent,  "I  must  get  into 
Virginia,  and  then  out  of  it  as  soon  as  possible.  Index 
and  note  all  these  papers  for  reference.  How  can  I  get  to 
town  quickly?" 

The  quick-witted  detective  pointed  to  a  lone  pine  a  half 
mile  ahead  on  the  road. 

"You  can  cut  across  lots  over  to  that  tree.  I'll  run 
down,  get  a  buggy  and  a  smart  horse  and  pick  you  up. 
What  do  you  wish  to  do  to-night  at  Virginia  City?  " 

"  Only  to  see  that  record  book  once  more,  and  then, 
have  you  give  the  bank's  lawyer  a  secret  message.  I 
want  also  a  certified  copy  of  that  Devereux  deed  sent  down 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  381 

to  the  manager  of  the  bank,  at  once.  Then,  you  can  drive 
me  back  here  to  Gold  Hill  and  I'll  take  the  morning  train 
down  to  Sacramento;  for  a  throw-off,  I  will  go  down  to 
the  city  and  then  on  the  boat. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  that  night,  when  the  tired  advocate 
laid  his  head  on  the  straw  pillow  of  an  obscure  miner's 
hotel  in  Gold  Hill.  "  Somewhere  in  the  world  there  is  a 
poor  child  who  should  be  the  owner  of  three-quarters  of 
this  hidden  treasure.  I  will  find  you!  I  will  know  you! 
Miss  Hope  Devereux — Miss  Devereux  of  the  Mariquita. 
If  I  could  only  find  Hooper,  for  I  must  get  a  correct 
picture  of  the  murdered  man,  the  last  link  of  the  proof. 
Then,  I  could  prove  by  inspection  the  death  of  the  real 
Devereux.  I  must  lead  that  cowardly  fellow,  Wyman,  on 
to  trap  himself."  And  all  the  long  night  Waldo  Strong 
wandered  in  cloud-land  with  the  shadowy  woman  he 
sought,  "Miss  Devereux  of  the  Mariquita." 

It  was  in  perfect  accord  with  the  plans  resulting  from 
his  cautious  visit,  and  following  a  cipher  telegram,  that 
Strong  directed  the  manager  to  have  his  openly  recognized 
attorneys  now  give  him  a  formal  written  opinion,  with  which 
to  face  Wyman.  Strong  was  gliding  down  the  farm-fringed 
banks  of  the  Sacramento  river,  while  Mr.  Frederick 
Wyman,  outwardly  self-possessed,  faced  the  manager  of 
the  Anglo-Calif ornian  bank.  The  young  millionaire  was 
suave,  alert,  watchful. 

"  I  have  consulted  no  attorneys  in  regard  to  the  rejec- 
tion of  my  hitherto  unchallenged  title,"  remarked  Wyman, 
"but,  I  simply  called  to  frankly  ask  you  the  reason  of  the 
rejection  of  it  by  your  lawyers.  Their  action  delays  a 
very  important  London  transaction." 

"I  have  no  doubt,"  calmly  said  the  manager,  "and  the 
reasons  are  so  simple  that  I  can  now  give  them  to  you.  I 
have  a  note,  by  the  way,  from  my  counsel  here.     Perhaps, 


382  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

you  can  remedy  the  delay  at  once?"  The  manager's  head 
was  bowed  over  his  papers,  and  he  extracted  an  envelope, 
on  which  Wyman's  quick  eye  caught  the  office  stamp  of 
those  great  legal  luminaries,  Messrs.  Jumbo,  Boardman 
&  Harrigan.     He  smiled,  "Ah!  I  see." 

"First,  no  United  States  patent,"  ;the  banker  slowly 
read  off,  and,  then  adjusting  his  gold-rimmed  eye-glasses, 
"Ah!  yes,  the  Devereux  deed  itself.  You  claim  from  one 
Robert  Devereux»the  last  deed  for  three-quarters  of  the 
mine  as  recorded  was  only  a  certified  copy.  Such  a  docu- 
ment should  either  have  been  a  duplicate  original,  or  else 
the  original  itself.  You  see  it's  a  very  large  transaction, 
Mr.  Wyman,"  pleasantly  remarked  the  oily  manager.  ' '  We 
must  be  very  conservative.  Our  bank  here  gains  nothing, 
only  business  in  a  general  way,  and,  we  are  held  morally 
responsible  for  the  extremest  care  in  London." 

"Is there  no  other  alleged  defect?"  cried  Wyman,  his 
eyes  brightening,  as  his  heart  told  him  the  advertisements 
had  so  far,  produced  nothing  of  a  formidable  character 
against  his  holding.  "  I  can  easily  arrange  to  sweep  this 
little  cloud  away.  First,  I  have  the  original  deed,  and  I 
will  record  that  at  once,  or  else  exhibit  it  to  your  lawyers, 
as  they  may  decide.  Secondly,  I  will  at  once  apply  for 
and  have  a  United  States  mineral  land  patent  obtained. 
If  there  is  no  notice  of  contest  filed,  then  in  thirty  days, 
the  granting  is  only  a  pro  forma  matter.  There'll  be  no 
notice." 

"  You  have  never  been  contested  in  any  manner,  in  your 
holding?  "  blandly  demanded  the  amiable  banker.  "Then, 
my  dear  sir,"  heartily  said  the  manager,  rising.  "I 
must  say  that  I  shall  write  to  London,  that  this  cloud  is 
only  a  matter  of  a  month's  delay.  I  would  proceed  at 
once  with  the  patent,  if  I  were  you." 

"And,  your  attorneys,"  remarked  Wyman,  his  heart 
leaping  up  in  joy,  "  shall  I  call  in  there?  " 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  383 

"  They  will  write  you  at  once  as  to  an  inspection  of  the 
deed,  but,  in  any  case,  I  should  record  it,  for  ray  own  pro- 
tection. If  you  do  not  hear  from  me  by  four  o'clock, 
send  it  up  to  Virginia  City,  and  have  it  spread  on  the 
records.  Our  attorney  there  can  examine  it.  Yes,  on  the 
whole,  I  would  do  that." 

There  was  a  queer  gleam  of  satisfaction  in  the  banker's 
eyes  as  Wyman  disappeared.  "Slick  scoundrel,"  he 
murmured,  "  and,  he  was  quite  excited,  too,  for  his  hands 
trembled,  as  he  grasped  his  hat  and  cane;"  which  proved 
that  the  remarks  of  the  late  Steven  Berard  as  to  Frederick 
Wyman' s  nerve  weakness,  were  not  unfounded,  even  after 
the  lapse  of  years  of  prosperity.  Yet,  the  coward  lived, 
and,  the  man  of  iron  nerves  was  ashes. 

But  Mr.  Wyman  was  a  very  happy  man  as  he  sped  away 
to  send  by  Wells,  Fargo  and  Co.,  the  original  forged  docu- 
ment, to  the  Recorder  at  Virginia  City.  A  half  hour 
with  Mr.  Horace  Wilder,  who  was  accustomed  to  such 
simple  formalities,  enabled  him  to  entrust  to  the  mail,  the 
simple  paper's  of  application  for  the  United  States  mineral 
land  patent,  with  the  usual  fees,  directed  to  the  Register 
of  the  IT.  S.  Land  office  at  the  mountain  mining  city. 

"  I  will  defy  the  devil  himself,  now,"  he  laughed,  as  he 
returned  from  these  last  formalities.  "  They  have  found 
out  nothing,  not  a  scrap  of  paper  to  found  a  contest  on. 
It  was  a  false  alarm!  "  He  drove  gaily  to  the  ocean  beach 
and  finished  up  a  happy  afternoon,  by  a  little  victorious 
dinner  (not  of  a  solitary  nature)  at  the  Cliff  House,  for 
the  rosy  brigade  were  all  now  anxious  to  make  the  most  of 
the  gallant  bachelor,  before  the  doors  of  the  stately  "Nob 
Hill "  home  hid  him  from  their  eyes,  at  least  for  a  time. 

Wyman  was  delightfully  eased  at  heart,  as  he  nodded 
behind  the  clicking  heels  of  his  thoroughbred  trotters, 
speeding   home  over  the  jaspery  roads  of    Golden   Gate 


384  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

Park.  He  cast  his  eyes  down  to  the  oval  where  he  had 
first  met,  in  a  near  approach,  the  one  lovely  woman  of  all 
the  chase,  who  had  so  far  escaped  his  passion's  meshes. 
Gladys  Lyndon's  face  returned  to  him  in  all  its  freshness 
of  high-souled  beauty.  "Damn  her  cold  prudishness," 
he  sneered.  "  She  will  live  to  regret  it,"  which  proved 
in  time  to  be  a  prophecy  which  notably  failed.  But 
Wyman  was  in  high  glee.  He  had  cabled  to  the  august 
Hiram  Buford:  "  Only  a  slight  delay,  taking  out  United 
States  patent,  thirty  days  ends  all  bother.  Will  join  you 
then,  at  once,  in  London."  A  softer  daily  message  to  Miss 
Minnie  was  "  de  rigueur,"  and  his  orders  to  his  Parisian 
bankers  submerged  that  waiting  bride-to-be  in  daily 
"floral  offerings,"  whose  mute  increase  spoke  of  the  "mad 
tide  of  love  "  swelling  in  his  heart. 

But  one  answer,  he  awaited  with  impatience.  He  had 
dispatched  to  Morani  "to  return  unless  needed."  On  his 
arrival  at  his  bower  of  bachelor  innocence,  he  bounded  in 
joy,  for  a  cablegram  awaited  him.  Its  cipher  soon  told 
the  story  of  life's  last  triumph.  ."Found  my  man,  settled 
down  in  villa,  gentleman  of  leisure.  Vinnie  here,  too. 
Have  a  daily  watch  kept.  Shall  I  come?  "  The  signature 
"Tony"  was  a  confirmation.  "Now,  I  will  make  a  king 
stroke,"  swore  Wyman,  as  he  mused  with  an  upward 
glance.  "I  know  what  I  will  do,  and  Mr.  James  Walter 
Hooper  will  not  particularly  fancy  it.  I  will  take  him 
away  from  Vinnie,  as  if  by  accident,  and  she  shall  be  mine 
yet,  the  keenest  adviser  of  the  whole  lot."  He  smiled 
softly,  as  he  gazed  up  at  the  floating  form  of  the  absent 
Venus,  beaming  down  a  promise  in  those  passion-haunted, 
"  half  cryin'  eyes."  "  I  will  make  it  an  object  to  her,  to 
come  back  to  me,"  he  triumphantly  whispered,  as  he 
closed  his  eyes  to  dream  that  her  clinging  arms  were 
clasped  around  him  once  more. 


A    FLAW    1ST    THE    DEED.  385 

The  single  word  "  Come"  had  been  flashed  to  Morani 
under  the  Atlantic  billows  before  Frederick  Wyinan  gaily 
awoke  to  the  life  appropriate  to  "  Nature's  Nobleman,"  and 
he  softly  smiled  upon  her  pictured  beauty  as  the  '  <  sun 
of  Austerlitz  "  woke  him,  a  conquering  hero,  the  next  morn- 
ing. "I  will  see  her  soon  again,"  he  said,  with  a  fierce 
light  in  his  dark  eyes. 

There  are  moments  of  fatuous  blindness  in  which  the 
coming  ruin  sweeps  down  on  us,  finding  us  unguarded,  like 
Belshazzar  at  his  drunken  feast!  While  Wyman  raised  the 
wine  glass  at  the  Cliff  House  and  smiled  into  strange  eyes 
of  a  professional  "  bit  of  loveliness,"  "Waldo  Strong  and 
the  bank  manager  sat  in  the  gloomy  California  Street  tem- 
ple of  Blackstone.  Mr.  Inspector  Stanton  was  closeted 
with  them.  The  faces  of  the  three  men  were  sternly  set 
in  that  eager  plan  of  a  campaign  to  the  death,  for  the 
hour  of  doom  was  nigh. 

"I  make  but  one  condition,"  said  Strong.  "Mr.  Stan- 
ton is  to  have  absolute  control  of  filing  the  notice  of  con- 
test. He  has  my  cipher,  and  he  will  have  my  local  assis- 
ant  here  under  his  orders.  You  must  keep  Wyman  here 
and  content  until  I  get  over  to  London."  The  manager 
bowed. 

"Here  is  a  carte  blanche  letter  to  our  London  house. 
They  will  do  all  you  ask  and  report  to  me.  You  can  send 
your  own  cablegram  to  Stanton." 

"Then  there's  nothing  more,  for  I  must  spend  three 
hours  with  my  junior  on  my  office  directions  for  a  two 
month's  absence.  I  take  the  morning  train,"  and  Waldo 
Strong  rose  with  a  gleam  of  triumph  in  his  cold,  cruel  eye. 
He  said,  "  I  will  be  back  as  soon  as  wheels,  winds  and 
waves  will  bring  me." 

"  Spare  no  money,"  cried  the  banker.  "  It  is  a  villain- 
ous scoundrelism  from  first  to  last." 


386  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQTTITA. 

"Stanton,"  cried  Strong,  as  the  banker  disappeared, 
"Meet  me  and  go  up  to  Benicia,  with  me  to-morrow,  at 
eight,  for  I  am  nearly  worn  out." 

"Count  on  me,"  said  the  sturdy  official,  "I  wish  to  see 
that  innocent  blood  avenged  after  many  years. 

"You  will  see  it  avenged,  by  the  God  above  us,"  sol- 
emnly answered  the  lawyer. 

When  alone  he  read  over  again,  a  brief  letter  from  Lon- 
don. It  was  carefully  drawn  forth  from  his  bosom.  Its 
arrival  that  afternoon,  had  changed  his  whole  plan  of  attack, . 
for,  on  Bis  way  back  from  court  to  the  legal  den  that  day 
he  pondered  over  the  silence  of  the  great  western  public 
as  regarded  Devereux.  "People  drop  out  of  sight  like 
plummets  in  a  dark  sea,  here,"  he  sadly  thought,  "but 
somewhere  on  earth,  you  are  wandering,  ignorant  of 
fortune,  perhaps  poor,  friendless,  the  victim  of  untoward 
events.  But,  I  will  find  you,  shadowy  Miss  Devereux." 
As  he  spoke  a  drunken  Irishman  passed  him  shouting, 
"Trust  to  luck,  trust  to  luck  and  stare  fate  in  the  face." 
He  smiled.  It  was  a  good  omen!  "  I  will  trust  to  luck," 
he  laughed. 

The  very  first  letter  on  his  table,  was  a  foreign  one.  He 
noted  the  London  postmark,  and  then,  opened  it  with  pro- 
fessional care.  As  he  read  it,  he  sprang  to  his  feet, 
"  Found  at  last,  by  God.  Now,  I  have  him,"  he  shouted 
in  a  strange  excitement.  His  wondering  clerks  lifted  their 
heads,  and  one  anxious  one  darted  into  the  room.  "Oh, 
bother!  It's  nothing,"  Strong  shame-facedly  said,  as  he  read 
the  note  again.  Thanks  to  Stanton,  the  "X.  Y.  Z."  de- 
livery was  specially  watched. 

The  words  startled  him.  "Is  it  her  own  handwriting? 
I  must  go  over  there  at  once,  at  all  hazard,"  he  decided, 
for  he  read: 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  387 

London,  October  20,  1875. 
«ToX.  Y.  Z., 

"P.  O.  Box  2901,  San  Francisco,  California. 
Sir:  The  only  living  child,  the  orphan  daughter  of 
Robert  and  Mary  Devereux,  can  be  communicated  with 
by  addressing  X.  Y.  Z.,  care*  Ernest  Thomas,  Director 
Albert  Hall,  London.  All  proofs  of  her  identity  are  here, 
as  well  as  her  father's  and  mother's  letters,  and  pictures. 
They  will  not  be  parted  with.  Yourself  or  some  reliable 
agent,  can  see  me  here.  I  will  remain  here  for  six 
months.  Any  letters  or  telegrams  to  the  above  address 
will  be  properly  answered  by  me. 
"  Respectfully  yours, 

" Robert  Deveeeux's  Daughter." 

1 '  Victory ! "  grimly  cried  Strong,  as  he  hastened  his 
head  clerk  to  the  office,  with  a  cable  message.  "  Coming 
to  see  you.  Important  property  rights  yours.  Await  me. 
I  bring  your  own  letter,  and  leave  to-morrow."  The  con- 
nection would  be  made  in  one  more  day. 

When  he  had  revolved  the  whole  subject  in  his  mind, 
Strong  finally  said  to  himself:  "I  must  at  once  file  a 
notice  of  contest.  If  I  can  get  this  woman's  permanent 
attorneyship,  I  will  apply  also  for  the  appointment  of  at- 
torney of  the  absent  heirs  of  Robert  Devereux,  and  so 
bring  the  unknown  heiress  on  at  once.  Her  letter  be- 
speaks some  refinement.  At  any  rate  I  will  have  time  to 
act,  as  I  can  block  the  mine  transaction  at  the  London 
main  office.  If  I  get  that  dead  man's  picture,  then  God 
help  you,  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman,  if  you  force  me  to  fight 
in  the  open.     Your  doom  is  sealed." 

There  were  few  words  wasted,  as  Stanton  wrung  Strong's 
hands  in  parting  at  Benicia.  "I'll  keep  your  bird  in 
sight  here.  Find  your  fairy  Miss  Devereux,  and  your 
fortune  is  made." 


388  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

The  lawyer  started  in  surprise,  as  the  train  rolled  away, 
for,  with  no  second  thought  of  money,  his  fee  of  the 
future  had  been  so  far  only  a  cold  even-handed  justice 
meted  out  to  the  man,  who,  in  plunging  him  in  poverty, 
had  robbed  him  of  Gladys  Lyndon,  the  vanisheji  song 
bird.  "  Ah!  It  comes  too  late,  if  fortune's  flood  returns. 
I  am  left  alone. "  And,  speeding  over  the  rich  fruited  vale  of 
the  Sacramento,  he  examined  the  last  bundle  of  morning 
mail  brought  down  to  the  boat  by  a  breathless  clerk. 

The  first  letter  from  Mrs.  Hammond  brought  a  sad 
smile  to  his  face,  "I  shall  see  her  at  any  rate,"  for  the 
intelligence  that  "  Miss  Lyndon  was  studying  music  in 
Paris  at  Mario's  conservatoire,"  was  all  that  diplomatic 
person  would  impart.  "Let  him  find  out  the  rest  him- 
self," the  gay  matron  had  said,  as  she  sealed  her  letter. 
"I  do  not  wish  to  get  caught  in  deep  water  over  the 
Diana-faced  prude.  Strong  and  Wyman  can  fight  for 
her  arctic  smiles  with  this  Yankee,  Otis.  Her  bosom  is  a 
locked-up  ice  chest,  and,  she's  a  fool." 

Mr.  Tony  Morani  was  a  prey  to  many  misgivings  with 
regard  to  the  final  landing  of  the  "thousand  pounds, v 
when  the  sudden  departure  of  his  master  from  London 
alarmed  him.  ' '  By  Jupiterre ! "  growled  Monsieur  Morani, 
"I  hope  he  does  not  go  to  pieces,  boom,  ah!  like  the  other 
California  millionaires."  Antoine  Morani  was  puzzled  as  he 
too  enjoyed  his  "  otium  cum  dignitate,"  with  the  bright 
little  Parisienne  at  Chiswick.  He  now  had  the  daily  life  of 
the  Hailey  Osgoods,  "  down  to  a  dot."  In  the  easy  retired 
semi  mercantile  class  around,  their  generous  entertain- 
ment, and  Mr.  Hailey  Osgood's  bonhomie,  made  them  very 
popular.  Tradespeople  and  the  shop-keepers  had  but  one 
word  as  to  liberality  and  prompt  payment. 

"They  are  in  'Easy  street'  at  any  rate,"  decided 
Tony.     He  had  secretly   watched   the  happy   couple.      A 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  389 

delightful  English  peachy  bloom  had  refreshed  the  gloomy 
cheek  of  Vinnie  Hinton.  The  "guise  of  virtue"  fitted 
her  well,  and  as  to  her  form,  and  "  outward  woman"  even 
Tony,  a  carping  critic,  pronounced  her  to  be  "  just  right  to 
a  hair."  Not  a  shade  of  care  lingered  on  the  brows  of 
either  in  their  open  villa  life.  A  fair  mail,  of  a  social 
nature,  was  usually  taken  to  the  villa  by  the  postman  with 
whom  Morani  was  now  "  solid  "  in  the  American  sense.  "  I 
can't  make  it  out,"  mourned  Tony,  "  and,  if  I  give  this 
thing  up  to  Wyman  by  letter,  I  may  not  see  that  thousand 
pounds.     What  is  the  game  here?" 

There  were  only  two  suspicious  features  in  the  un- 
ruffled life  of  the  "  Hailey  Osgoods."  Mrs.  Hailey 
Osgood  never  showed  Vinnie  Hinton's  blooming 
face  in  London.  Her  maid  seemed  to  be  a 
trusted  "Abigail,"  and,  she  was  absolutely  proof 
against  all  the  occasional  blandishments  of  the  "  chere 
amie "  who  shared  Morani's  comfortable  Chiswick  exile. 
High  pay  sealed  her  lips.  This  woman  was  "com- 
missionaire" in  chief,  for  the  handsome  lady  of  the  villa, 
and,  rarest  of  her  sex,  she  would  not  talk!  None  but 
Chiswick  people  ever  crossed  the  garden  lawns,  and 
Mr.  Hailey  Osgood  himself  always  was  alone  in  his  town 
trips,  which  were  only  broken  by  the  Sundays. 

A  month  of  watching  proved  to  Morani  that  the 
fugitive  forger  had  some  powerful  reasons  for  his  regular 
attendance  at  the  little  money  broker's  shop.  Little 
business  was  done  there,  but  yet  there  was  no  flavor  of 
suspicion.  A  safe  and  a  check  book  seemed  to  be  the 
arms  of  the  taciturn  money  lender,  Compton.  He  never 
went  to  the  exchanges,  bat  his  personal  visits  to  the 
General  Postoffice,  the  foreign  character  of  his  cus- 
tomers, and  the  visits  of  many  continental  gentlemen  at 
the   lodging   house   dressing     station,    gradually    forced 


390  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

Morani  to  believe  "Compton"  was  only  a  stool  pigeon 
for  some  desperate  continental  criminals.  "What  else 
can  it  be?  "  Morani  demanded  of  his  puzzled  brain,  for  the 
stealthy  change  of  route,  and  the  slipping  out  of  the  grub 
"  Compton"  into  the  Chiswick  butterfly  "  Hailey  Os- 
good," was  attended  with  a  hundred  keen  bright  variations 
in  detail  and  the  daily  routes!  He  was  an  artful  dodger, 
"Mr.  Compton  Hailey  Osgood  Hooper,"  and,  the  lady 
always  clung  to  the  villa. 

"By  God!  he's  a  smart  devil,  and  he  ought  to  succeed," 
thought  Tony  one  evening,  as  buried  in  his  newspaper  he 
furtively  watched  the  military-looking  "  gent,"  from  Aus- 
tralia. At  Chiswick,  Hailey  Osgood  was  thought  to  be 
some  ex-mounted  policeman,  who  had  gone  in  for  "  sheep 
raising,"  or  married  some  rich  "Sidney  duck's "  daugh- 
ter. The  valet's  eyes  ran  over  the  journals,  always  in 
anxious  watch.  He  burned  to  find  some  clue  to  "  Comp- 
ton. "  Some  events  which  would  justify  « <  Hailey  Osgood," 
a  cool,  wide-awake  scoundrel,  in  so  braving  the  English 
police.  "  He  may  have  saved  a  good  lump  of  the  plun- 
der of  his  Calif ornian  forgeries,  and  so  dreams  along  here 
on  the  quiet,  but  he  is  all  the  while  far  inside  of  the 
danger  line.  What  makes  him  take  this  risk? "  So, 
Morani  keenly  searched  the  journals. 

He  started,  and  instinctively  turned  his  eyes  toward  the 
disguised  Hooper,  when  he  read  an  article  which  roused 
him  at  last.  The  very  heading,  "  Heavy  Forgeries  on 
London  Banks,"  was  enough  to  excite  the  fox-like  Morani. 
When  he  had  finished  reading,  he  stole  away  to  the  stern  of 
the  boat.  "I  have  got  your  little  game  at  last,  Mr.  Comp- 
ton," he  chuckled.  Lighting  a  cigar,  he  mused,  "Yes, 
small  London  checks  on  various  "banks,  all  very  skillfully 
raised  to  large  sums;  bills  of  exchange  obtained  from  im- 
migrants and  others,  most  skillfully  negotiated  on  the  Con- 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  391 

tinent,  with  endorsements  of  the  greatest  London  banks; 
a  very  fine  hand  shown  in  these  great  swindles.  Police 
baffled." 

Mr.  Antonio  Morani  laughed  softly.  He  dared  not 
mutter  the  word  "  Jim  the  Penman,"  but,  his  eyes  gleamed 
in  triumph,  as  he  gazed  at  the  easy  elegance  of  the  victim 
now  unconsciously  spotted.  "  I'll  have  Wyman's  money, 
and,  a  sum  equal  to  the  Government  reward,  too."  Morani 
had  read  the  past  history  of  Hooper  in  the  San  Francisco 
journals,  for  they  had  "harked  back"  on  his  old  exploits. 
So  with  glee,  the  dapper  little  valet  provisioned  and 
munitioned  his  bright-eyed  garrison,  and  murmured  certain 
loving  injunctions  to  the  "Jessica"  of  his  house,  and 
heart,  for  well  he  knew  that  Wyman  would  now  call  him 
back  at  once. 

It  so  fell  out,  and  before  the  seasick  Mr.  Morani 
arrived  at  New  York,  he  had  discovered  the  reason  for 
Wyman's  pursuit  of  Hooper.  If  "truth  lies  at  the  bot- 
tom of  a  well,"  this  discovery  welled  up  while  the  "  City 
of  Berlin "  was  plunging  into  terrific  seas,  evidently  try- 
ing to  stand  on  her  head,  if  this  nautical  devilment  were 
possible.  "Yes!"  groaned  Morani,  "Hooper  ran  off 
with  the  luscious  Vinnie  Hinton.  She  was  Wyman's  good 
angel  'une  belle  ame  damnee.'  Better  looking,  better 
dressed,  more  heart,  more  'go'  in  her  than  all  the 
rest.  It  is  <  la  revanche. '  Well,  he  shall  have  it,  if  he 
pays  me."  Morani,  in  singling  out  the  Venus  whose  pic- 
tured beauties  floated  on  the  ceiling,  in  raising  her  as 
queen  of  light  loves,  far  above  all  the  women  who  had 
ever  stolen  light-footed  up  the  private  stair  of  "  The  Den," 
had  only  done  her  charms  simple  justice. 

Gay  and  debonnaire,  she  had  been  always  "square" 
to  Wyman,  and  her  quick  wit,  nerve,  and  unfailing  cour- 
age had  built  him  up.       In  straying  into  a  life  of   reckless 


392  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

gallantry,  she  had  not  lost  a  certain  fiber  of  character 
which  vivified  her  mad  exploits  under  the  flag  of  Venus. 
"  I  belong  to  myself,  at  any  rate,"  she  had  often  cried, 
with  rosy  lips  and  sparkling  eyes.  "  I  rule,  and  will  not 
bend."  It  amused  her  to  see,  prostrate  before  her  pretty 
feet,  the  "heavy  men  of  the  golden  state."*  And  she  had 
struck  on  the  sounding  brass  of  Frederick  Wynian's 
nature,  and  knew  too  well  there  was  not  a  single  golden 
note  in  his  harp  of  life. 

"Fred,  your  own  lack  of  heart,  your  absolute  lack  of 
faith,  will  rob  you  of  all  friends,"  she  had  cried  once,  in  a 
fit  of  critical  "  sizing  him  up."  "  You  will  never  make  a 
single  true  friend.  Your  lack  of  nerve  may  flurry  you,  and 
remember  what  I  tell  you,  all  around  you  they  will  scamper 
like  rats,  if  you  are  in  any  trouble.  So,  my  boy,  play  a 
'safety  game.'  After  all,  it's  only  those  who  help  others 
who  have  a  right  to  run  up  a  distress  signal.  But,  you 
will  go  down  alone,  without  mourners,  too,  if  you  don't 
look  out." 

The  golden  tide  of  prosperity  had  swept  Wyman  along 
on  summer  seas,,  and  yet,  as  he  waited  for  Morani's  re- 
turn, he  missed  the  keen-witted  Vinnie  daily  more  and 
more.  And  in  his  lonely  hours,  the  "half-cryin'  eyes" 
looked  down  on  him,  and  wakened  memories  which  made 
the  old  passion  burn  again  in  scorching  flames.  She  was 
the  queen,  and  her  vacant  throne  awaited  her  royal  foot- 
step—  "  Ah!  so  soon!     Back  again!  " 

There  was  a  little  fleck  of  growing  cloud  in  the  bright 
sunshine  of  Miss  Lyndon's  pronounced  London  success. 
Jack  Otis  noticed  daily  a  graver  shade  on  her  bright  brow, 
and  a  cold  self-protective  manner  in  her  daily  intercourse. 
The  chilliness,  however,  did  not  reach  the  companion  of  her 
"architectural  excursions,"  and  her  answer  to  Jack's  soli- 
citous inquiries  only   told  him  that  the  professional   life 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  393 

was  beginning   to   tell  upon   that  reserve    of   vital    force 
which  the  stage  world  finally  exhausts. 

"  I  have  so  many  engagements,  and  I  see  so  many  people, 
so  many  strangers.  I  often  wish  I  could  get  away  from 
it  all,"  the  noble  woman  confided  to  him,  one  evening  as 
they  wandered  in  the  friendly  shades  of  Hyde  Park.  She 
was  now  the  pronounced  London  rage,  and  Otis  knew  that 
she  was  amassing  all  her  savings,  the  golden  gains  of 
"extra  appearances"  in  great  private  houses,  to  com- 
plete her  final  training  for  the  opera  stage. 

"  Brother  Jack  "  had  a  thousand  times  demanded  of  his 
own  heart,  the  reason  of  the  unbroken  silence  she  always 
guarded  as  to  her  lonely  youth  and  her  family  antecedents. 
"  If  I  knew!  If  she  would  only  give  me  one  word,  a  single 
one,  I  would  beg  her  to  link  her  life  with  mine.  But  I  can 
wait "  he  said,  for,  Mr.  Otis,  recognizing  the  unsullied 
womanliness  of  her  noble  nature,  knew  that  she  would 
chose  her  time.  "  I  think  I  would  be  far  happier  in  the 
regular  career  of  the  opera  stage,"  she  reluctantly  admitted 
at  last.  "This  position  is  so  transient,  so  varied  in  its 
demands,"  and  yet,  she  was  a  "fixed  star"  now,  and  Otis 
had  only  been  able  by  skillful  maneuvering  to  delay  her 
sending  back  the  two  thousand  dollars  to  the  Parisian 
bankers  she  still  thought  to  be  due  her  creditors. 

"My  poor  darling,"  he  murmured  that  night,  and  was 
marshaling  his  soft-eyed  soldiery  of  loving  words  to  storm 
the  feebly  defended  walls  of  her  heart,  when  Harriet,  the 
faithful  abigail,  gave  him  at  last  the  key  to  the  secret.  "If 
she  has  any  secret  grief,  if  she  has  trouble,  I  must  find 
out,"  he  warmly  soliloquized,  and  he  was  resolved  now  to 
bear  her  away  to  the  splendid  old  home  on  the  Charles,  if 
love  would  show  her  the  way. 

And  yet,  loving  and  solicitious  now  knowing  her  whole 
gentle  heart,  in  all  save  the   story  of  the  past,    he   feared 


394  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

"  to  put  it  to  the  touch  and  win  or  lose  it  all."  "  There 
has  been  some  sadness,  some  overhanging  gloom,"  he 
reasoned,  and  a  thousand  times  he  scorned  the  thought  of 
any  previous  episode  of  passion.  "  Ah!  no,  the  breath  of 
life  still  sweeps  the  harp  of  her  soul  in  free  strains,  un- 
mingled  with  the  higher  notes  of  love,  for,  these  chords 
were  silent.  The  sleeping  music  had  never  been  waked  by 
the  great  artist  hand."  He  was  startled  when  the  bright- 
eyed  English  maid  burst  out  in  indignation: 

"It's  just  a  shame,  a  cryin'  shame,  that's  what  it  is,  sir. 
That  dear  blessed  young  lady.  Why  sir!  "  and  Harriet  dived 
for  her  apron.  "  There's  letters,  and  nosegays  and  baskets 
of  flowers,  and  such  presents;  and  letters  with  crests  and 
big  seals  on  'em  too.  And,  if  you  knew,"  her  eyes  glistened 
in  anger,  "  the  way  they  try  to  trap  her,  the  scoundrels!  " 
"Who  are  they?  Harriet,  "  cried  Otis,  with  a  sinking 
heart,  for  now,  he  saw  the  drift  of  a  portion  of  these  public 
attentions  lavished  on  the  unprotected  girl.  "Why!  a 
whole  lot  of  the  London  swells.  You  know  that  idle, 
wicked  class,  sir!  all  kinds,  and  some  who  ought  to  be  in 
better  business — old  married  reprobates. "  Harriet  wiped 
her  eyes,  but  her  left  hand  instinctively  closed  on  a  sover- 
eign. 

"  You're  a  good  girl,  Harriet,"  said  Jack  Otis,  moodily. 
"Oh!  sir,  take  her  right  away  out  of  here.  London's  an 
awful  place,  sir."  Alas!  John  Wayne  Otis,  wandering 
away  disconsolate,  saw  no  difference  between  New  York, 
Paris  and  London  as  "  awful  places; "  nay,  even  his  native 
tri-mountain  Boston,  was  not  free  of  that  cold  deliberate 
woman  hunt,  which  in  all  its  seductive  luxury  and  cowardly 
detail  seems  to  be  the  one  passion  of  the  "  unemployed,"  of 
the  aristocracy,  the  plutocracy,  and  all  those  waiting  cuttle- 
fish who  can  twist  their  slimy  arms  around  the  fair  young 
prey. 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  395 

"  It's  the  way  of  the  world,"  broke  out  Jack  Otis,  and 
then  forgetting  his  Puritanism,  he  energetically  added, 
"a  damned  bad  way,  too.  A  woman  ought  to  have  at 
least  a  chance  to  dwell  undefiled  in  peace  within  the  beauti- 
ful tenement  of  a  clean  soul,  if  God  gives  her  the  mind  to 
so  dwell."  And  he  then  thought  of  all  the  fair  young  faces 
which  lose  the  light  of  life,  of  all  the  beautiful  ones  "who 
go  down  in  the  lost  battle,  borne  down  by  the  flying."  "Ah! 
me,  if  these  poor  women  only  knew  the  path  to  the  gateway 
of  Pleasure  was  paved  with  the  bones  of  those  who  had 
gone  before! "  Mr.  Otis  threw  away  his  cigar, and  went  home 
sadly.  "  It  would  not  make  any  difference,"  he  mourned 
< '  neither  would  they  be  persuaded,  if  one  rose  from  the 
dead,  for,  ever  since  the  world  began  the  unequal  fight 
goes  on, and  the  soft  white  bosom  of  woman  is  still  unarmed, 
against  'Her  Dearest  Foe.'" 

A  little  flattery,  a  little  rose  wreathed  wine,  a  few  jew- 
els, a  little  brief  hour  of  passion's  devil  dance,  a  little 
heartbreak,  a  little  lonely  grave,  a  little  moral! 

Gladys  turned  queenly  eyes  on  him  that  night,  in  the 
starlight,  as  they  walked  home  together. 

"Yes,  there  is  trouble  always,"  she  softly  replied,  "and 
insult  more  or  less  covert,  and  continual  cowardly  intru- 
sion. I  fancy  it  is  a  sort  of  reflected  vanity,  this  chase 
after  a  strange  face  seen  under  the  mocking  footlights  of 
the  stage,  a  vain  desire  to  have  and  to  hold,  for  a  passing 
time  of  mere  brutal  fancy." 

"Is  there  no  way  out?"  huskily  cried  Jack;  "no  way 
to  limit  this  wretched  brutality?  " 

"I  fear  not,  Brother  Jack,"  with  a  hopeless  voice,  the 
girl  frankly  said.  "  It  is  the  reverse  of  the  medal!  I  can 
see  no  protection,  except  the  absolute  retirement  of  private 
life,  and,  what  woman  is  safe  even  there?  But,  here  we 
are,"  she  sighed,  and  with  a  throbbing  heart,  the  beautiful 
singer  dismissed  her  undeclared  lover  at  the  door. 


396  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

Long  after  she  had  loosened  her  golden  hair,  and  stole 
to  the  window,  in  a  lonely  reverie,  she  saw  a  lithe,  manly 
form  pacing  the  brick  pathway  opposite.  A  gleam  of  red 
fire  showed  that  Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis  was  pondering  over 
a  little  social  problem,  which  had  this  evening  aroused  a 
particular  interest  in  his  manly  bosom.  Architecture  of  a 
local  nature  had  suddenly  lost  all  its  charms,  and,  he  fin- 
ished his  last  castle  in  Spain,  with  a  few  sweeping  masterly 
touches.  "  I  may  not  be  worthy  of  her,"  he  mused,  as  he 
took  one  last  fond  look  at  her  windows,  "but,  God  bless 
her!  I  have,  at  any  rate,  a  safe  nest  for  that  dear  song  bird. 
I  will  not  always  let  her  drift  here,  alone  and  unprotected," 
he  decided,  and,  he  only  sought  a  fitting  time  for  the  ap- 
plication of  that  sterling  old  proverb,  "Man  proposes." 

His  tender  heart  was  humbled  and  chastened  by  the 
girl's  dignified  reserve, the  proud  isolation  of  her  silence  as 
to  her  youth, and  the  patience  of  her  new  sorrow.  He  little 
knew  how  weak  and  fond  her  woman's  heart  was,  trem- 
bling there  behind  the  silken  armor,  for  dear  eyes  he 
loved,  followed  his  retreating  form,  unseen  that  night,  and 
Hope  Devereux  pressed  a  slender  white  hand  upon  a  wom- 
anly bosom,  rising  and  falling  in  the  sweet,  sad  unrest  of 
love. 

Her  very  last  word,  when  murmured  that  night,  was, 
"Jack,  if  you  only  knew  all,  if  you  only  knew  all,"  for 
in  her  heart  of  hearts,  she  would  be  worthy  of  him,  and  the 
thought  of  that  proud,  lonely  mother,  seated  in  the  classic 
old  home  at  Cambridge  thrilled  her  with  unrest.  "  I  will 
not  bring  her  pain,  a  pauper  orphan,"  she  cried,  through 
her  lonely  tears. 

A  week  later  Jack  Otis  escorted  Gladys  Lyndon  to 
Chiswick.  An  afternoon  concert  and  reception,  gave  Mrs. 
Hailey  Osgood  an  opportunity  to  have  a  nearer  view  of 
the  woman  who  had  so  enslaved  Fred  Wyman.     It  was 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  39V 

the  only  occasion,  on  which  Miss  Lyndon  had  gone  out  of 
the  list  of  the  great  houses.  The  Anglo-American  colony, 
headed  by  Mrs.  Buford,  was  the  theater  of  her  most  recent 
triumphs,  and  Director  Thomas  narrowly  inspected  all  the 
town  offers. 

"It's  a  good  idea,  my  boy,  for  you  to  escort  Miss  Lyn- 
don there,"  he  said.  "  These  Australians  are  very  queer 
fish  sometimes." 

When  the  singer  had  won  the  hearts  of  the  hundred 
thronging  Mrs.  Hailey  Osgood's  drawing  rooms,  when  the 
throng  had  all  departed,  Miss  Lyndon  and  her  escort,  re- 
mained to  dine  en  famille,  and  then  go  home  on  the  un- 
romantic  yet  storied  waters  of  the  Thames. 

Mr.  Jack  Otis  was  conscious  of  some  hidden  purpose, 
for  the  hostess,  superb  in  her  robes,  blazing  with  Mr. 
Frederick  Wyman's  diamonds,  exhausted  all  the  womanly 
arts  to  draw  Miss  Lyndon  out  upon  the  subject  of  her 
early  career. 

Vinnie  Hinton  bit  her  lips  behind  the  filmy  lace  handker- 
chief in  her  jeweled  hand.  "Sly!  Sly!  You  are  either 
a  very 'sly  sister,  a  mighty  keen  one,  or  else  a  baby-faced 
goose,  an  innocent!"  and, the  keen  adventuress  wondered 
in  her  mind  if  Otis  was  an  eligible  "  parti,"  or,  only  "  the 
man  of  the  hour."  The  topics  of  public  life,  a  stage  career 
and  kindred  matters,  busied  the  ladies  while  Jack  Otis  was 
astounded  at  the  remarkable  denseness  of  Mr.  Hailey 
Osgood  on  Australian  matters.  Otis  had  in  his  world 
wanderings  thoroughly  "done"  Australia. 

As  he  returned  from  a  long  game  of  billiards  he  re- 
marked to  himself:  "This  easy,  good-natured  chap  is 
either  a  natural  fool,  or,  has  left  some  little  record  in 
Australia  of  a  local  nature,  which  bothers  him. " 

Jack  Otis,  gazing  on  the  beautiful  hostess, whose  dash  and 
fire  electrified  him,  murmured:  "I  suppose  it's  a  case   of 


398  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

some  other  man's  wife,  or  some  such  little  social  irregu- 
larity. Yes,  that  is  what  he  declines  to  localize  his  old 
Bushranger  days  for."  As  for  money,  a  glance  at  the 
splendidly  appointed  house  proved  that  all  ran  on  golden 
wheels.      "  They  are  all  very  rich,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Hailey  Osgood  was  not  disposed  at  all  to  lose  the 
sudden  acquaintance  of  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon.  In  laughing 
banter,  she  pledged  her  visitors  to  accept  of  another  Sun- 
day dinner  and  outing  on  the  Thames. 

1 '  I  shall  have  some  garden  parties  later,  and  I  count 
upon  you  as  a  friend,  you  must  have  a  life  of  your  own 
outside  of  the  dreamland  of  song.  And  you,  must  come 
too,  Mr.  Otis.  Men  are  the  pawns  we  must  have  in  our 
little  social  games.  In  all  our  bright  plumage,  we  need 
you  as  our  background,  for  you  we  dress,  for  you*  we 
drill  in  society's  parade,  for  you  we  spread  our  feeble 
nets,  for,"  she  laughed,  "we  are,  after  all,  only  what  you 
make  us."  There  seems  to  be  a  defective  quantity  some- 
where in  womanhood,  for  never  yet  was  there  the  woman 
whose  life  was  not  rounded  out  and  made  integral  in  its 
happy  completeness  by  some  one  man,  whom  fate  had 
doomed  to  be  her  mate.  "  Yes,  we  do  need  your  tyrant 
sex.  We  wear  your  chains!"  and  she  gaily  shook  Fred 
Wyman's  diamond  bracelets,  at  her  wondering-eyed  lord, 
Mr.  Hailey  Osgood. 

He  was  mute  as  she  declaimed. 

"Look  here,  Vinnie,  what  the  devil's  your  little 
game?"  said  Hooper  as  his  "alleged  wife"  and  himself 
strolled  back  over  the  lawn  in  the  soft  starlight. 

"Jim,"  earnestly  said  Vinnie,  "there's  the  one  danger 
signal  for  us  in  London.  That's  the  woman  Mr.  Fred 
Wyman  went  dead  crazy  on  in  the  last  days  out  there  in 
Frisco,  you  know.  She's  a  deal  too  good  for  that  cold 
schemer.     He  tried  to  gather  her  into  his  fold. "     A  danger- 


A    FLAW    IN    THE    DEED.  399 

ous  light  gleamed  now  in  her  eyes.  "Now!  If  he  ever 
comes  to  London,  he  will  haunt  this  girl's  very  footsteps, 
and  I  wish  to  keep  in  touch  with  her.  It  will  give  us  a  fair 
warning,  a  chance  to  clear  out.  Do  you  know,  Jimmie," 
she  said  fondly  and  anxiously,  "sometimes  I  don't  feel  too 
sure  here,  you  know.  It's  just  too  great  a  streak  of  luck 
to  last,  for,"  she  sadly  said,  "luck  turns  always  at  last." 
She  shivered  with  a  sudden  chill,  and  went  in  to  the  shelter 
of  the  home  which  was  only  a  comfortable  sham. 

She  dared  not  tell  Hooper  that  she  furtively  purchased 
all  the  San  Francisco  papers,  and  that  she  knew  that 
"nobleman  of  Nature,"  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman,  would 
soon  come  to  London  to  claim  a  millionaire  bride  in  a  few 
months.  , 

"Poor  old  Jim,"  she  sighed  in  the  safety  of  her  own 
"  sanctum  sanctorum."  "  He's  smart  enough  in  his  way, 
Jim  the  Penman,  but  if  he  has  a  drop  too  much,  then 
'the  days  of  Aranjuez  are  over,'  and,  we  are  lost. 
Wyman  will  also  hound  down  this  pretty  girl,  but  in 
vain.  She  is  dead  square,"  decisively  said  Vinnie,  "and 
I  hope  she  will  not  be  sucked  down  in  the  whirl,  for  she 
is  too  good  to  go  my  way,"  the  vivacious  Mrs.  Hailey 
Osgood  remarked  with  a  last  sigh. 

The  danger  of  Wyman's  visit  to  London  returned  again 
to  annoy  her.  "After  all,"  she  finally  decided  "Wy- 
man won't  dare  go  out  of  his  way  to  hurt  either  of  us. 
He  is  a  coward,  and  yet — and  yet — coward  curs  snap!" 
she  sadly  finished. 

For  once,  Vinnie  Hinton  was  "all  abroad"  in  her  calcu- 
lations, for,  at  that  very  moment,  in  San  Francisco,  Mr. 
Wyman  had  achieved  the  crowning  sneaking  triumph  of 
his  low  life.  The  arrival  of  Morani,  and  the  prompt 
"  crossing"  of  that  ingenuous  fellow's  palm  to  an  unheard 
of  extent,  gave   the  disturbed  speculator  the  means  of  a 


400  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

groveling  revenge.  "  That  will  seal  his  lips  forever,"  he 
cried,  as  he  concluded  the  dispatching  of  a  full  anonymous 
letter  denouncing  Hooper  to  the  authorities  of  Scotland 
Yard.  It  was  intrusted  to  Wells,  Fargo  and  Co.'s  reliable 
express,  and  every  detail  of  Mr.  Hailey  Osgood  Compton, 
Hooper's  life  and  career  was  set  forth,  with  a  neat  added 
theory  as  to  his  being  the  wonderful  penman  of  the  great 
international  London  forgeries.  A  picture  of  the  most 
accomplished  scribe,  in  his  palmy  days  of  brokerage,  ac- 
companied the  fatal  packet.  The  writer  rubbed  his 
jeweled  hands  in  glee,  as  he  winked  at  Vinnie's  overhang- 
ing charms. 

"lam  even  with  you,  now!  "  grimly  remarked  Wyman, 
"  and,  I'll  let  the  iron  trap  drop  on  -you.  Tony  can  ju- 
diciously reconduct  the  tempting  Vinnie,  to  the  only  man 
who  fully  appreciates  her."  "Nature's  nobleman"  then 
gazed  admiringly  at  himself  in  the  glass,  and,  the  picture 
on  the  ceiling  took  on  a  new  loveliness,  that  of  the 
coming  queen. 

For,  the  very  walls  of  the  "  den  "  spoke  of  the  vanished 
days,  and  her  springing  footstep  echoed  once  more  in  the 
waiting  heart  of  the  man  who  had  just  merely  given  over 
to  a  life-long  transporation,  the  man  whom  Vinnie  Hinton 
steadfastly  loved  with  all  his  faults,  for,  he  was  hers  alone. 


MRS.  HAILEY  OSGOOD'S  GARDEN  PARTY.       401 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Mrs.  Hailey  Osgood's  Garden  Party. 

Jack  Otis  found  the  pursuit  of  his  "architectural  investi- 
gations "  a  hopeless  task  in  the  first  few  days  after 
Harriet's  disclosures.  On  three  separate  occasions,  he 
adorned  himself  "  in  Tyrian  purple,"  and  also  bestowed  an 
unwonted  care  upon  his  personal  appearance.  The  vain  hope 
that  this  formal  "  toilet  of  the  condemned,"  would  bring 
him  a  courage,  derived  from  these  unusual  splendors, 
faded  alas!  away  in  a  cold  self-depreciation.  It^was  to 
him  the  ordeal  of  his  life  to  approach  the  silent  outworks 
of  that  feebly-guarded  fortress,  a  loving  woman's  heart, 
for,  it  was  the  one  woman  of  the  world  for  him,  his  lovely 
tyrant. 

Otis  did  not  realize  the  isolation  of  the  woman  he  loved. 
She  distinctly  distrusted  Mrs.  Milly  Hammond,  whose 
growing  influence  over  General  Buford  led  her  to  become 
now  a  familiar  feature  of  all  the  open  marts  of  swell  Lon- 
don in  that  magnate's  company.  "  It  was  a  time  of  roses" 
for  them,  for  Mrs.  Buford  and  Miss  Minnie  were  both 
busily  engaged  in  arranging  their  new  London  establish- 
ment. 

"Let  us  make  hay  while  the  sun  shines,"  Buford  gaily 
whispered  to  Milly,  with  directness,  if  not  with  delicacy. 
' '  I  may  be  obliged  soon  to  return  to  California,  but,  thank 
God,  you  can  go  on  with  me,  but,  very  discreetly."  Where- 
at, the  emboldened  Milly  only  laughed  and  hummed,  "  'Tis 
you,  nor  I,  nor  nobody  cares." 

"Do  you  know,  'Old  Reliable,'"  she  laughed,  "other 


402  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

people  have  their  own  little  rackets.  The  whole  world  is 
engaged  now  in  a  sort  of  hide-and-go-seek  'game.'  At  least, 
it  seems  so  to  me,  a  casual  onlooker;"  for,  the  velvet-eyed 
woman  had  recognized  a  number  of  cases  in  her  voyage 
where  the  threads  of  life  were  most  queerly  twisted.  So 
she  happily  sang  "  A  waiting  for  a  partner!  A  waiting  for 
a  partner." 

It  suited  her  own  "  little  game,"  to  drift  homewards 
under  the  lee  of  that  portentous  financial  "battleship," 
General  Hiram  Buford.  "He  is  a  stayer,  this  old  boy, 
a  rock,  a  very  rock,  whose  mighty  shade  is  very  pleasant." 
And  so,  she  found  it!  He  was  a  cooling  shelter  of  grate- 
ful rest,  "  in  the  arid  desert  of  Phryne's  life  where  all  was 
parched  and  hot. " 

Miss  Lyndon,  whose  health  and  spirits  faded  visibly 
under  the  unwonted  strain  of  ambition,  hard  work,  her 
stage  annoyances,  and  a  vague  unrest,  became  daily  a  more 
and  more  white-faced  Marguerite,  whose  brows  were 
shaded  with  an  overmastering  anxiety.  She  had  neither 
friend  nor  confidant.  In  the  indignant  recoil  of  her  at- 
tacked privacy,  she  distrusted  all  men  and  all  women, 
save  only  Jack  Otis. 

Ernest  Thomas  and  his  strictly  British  family  were  all 
engrossed  in  their  own  family  cares,  and  the  girl  shone 
out  a  star,  lofty,  silent,  alone.  It  was  a  matter  which 
caused  the  ' '  lifting  of  eyebrows  "  at  the  clubs  and  in  cer- 
tain gay  circles  that  the  great  concertist  so  sternly 
"sported  the  oak." 

"D'ye  see?"  said  Lord  Damfoolie,  a  gay  young  unem- 
ployed peer  to  another  "of  that  ilk,"  "there's  an 
American  chap,  rather  a  decent  fellow  by  the  way,  Jack 
Otis,  who  makes  the  inside  running  there.  He's  a  kind 
of  First  Attache,  and  I  fancy,  is  the  coming  man."  And 
so,  Damfoolie  yawned  over  a  B.  and  S.  and  definitely  cast 


403 

the  handkerchief  of  selection  in  other  and  far  easier  direc- 
tions. "  For,  by  Jove,  d'ye  know,"  said  he,"  this  is  a  rare 
one.  Neither  flowers  nor  presents  ever  seem  to  make  their 
way  to  her,  and,  I  don't  believe  a  Richmond  dinner  or  a  pri- 
vate wine  supper  would  convey  any  idea  to  her  classic 
mind.  Not  a  bit!  It's  a  case  of  'No  Thoroughfare.'" 
And,  he  heaved  a  sigh,  a  giant  sigh. 

While  Ernest  Thomas,  always  sober  and  captious,  could 
find  no  fault  with  Mr.  Jack  Otis'  attention,  while  he  guarded 
the  professional  life  of  Miss  Lyndon  with  a  real  fatherly 
care,  the  clear-eyed  impressario  felt  that  his  hold  upon  Miss 
Lyndon  was  but  transient.  His  own  verdict  was  summed 
up  with  a  sigh,  "God  bless  her!  She's  a  rare  nice  girl, 
and  lit  for  something  better  than  the  hunted  life  path  of  a 
popular  idol.  What  a  wife  she  would  make,  for  the  right 
man."  Ah!  Blind  Bartimeus!  The  "right  man"  was 
already  "on  deck." 

An  unusual  rift  in  the  cloud,  in  the  way  of  an  inspiring 
morning,  gave  the  long-needed  key-note  to  Jack  Otis.  "I 
will  arise  and  go  forth,  and  face  the  music  to-day,"  he 
cried  in  a  defiant,  manly  spirit.  He  had  tried  for  several 
weeks  to  vary  the  lonely  life  of  the  girl.  One  Chiswick 
Sunday  had  caused  him,  (keen-eyed  enough  as  regarded 
others)  to  see  a  growing  desire  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Hailey 
Osgood  to  creep  into  very  warm  and  close  relations  with  the 
singer,  for  flowers,  baskets  of  fruit,  game  and  sundry  other 
offerings  were  continued  reminders  of  Mrs.  Osgood's  gen- 
erosity and  good  memory.  Otis  had  also  made  himself  a 
committee  of  supply;  books,  nosegays,  little  trifles,  jour- 
nals, the  bright  American  trifles  of  daily  life,  all  these,  he 
purveyed  in  a  secret  tenderness,  and  afoot  on  the  prosaic 
banks  of  the  Thames,  in  the  shade  of  all  the  pleasant  breath- 
ing places  of  London,  he  tried  to  lead  the  girl  out  of  her 
growing  seriousness. 


404  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

Jack  had  arranged  a  very  neat  burst  of  lover-like  elo- 
quence, and  was  rehearsing  it  for  the  last  time,  when  a 
note  interrupted  this  golden  pyramid  building.  It  was  a 
request  for  him  to  favor  Miss  Lyndon  with  an  immediate 
call,  upon  a  matter  of  great  importance.  The  winged 
Mecury  was  not  swifter  than  the  love-awakened  Bostonian 
who,  before  he  reached  the  royal  presence  of  the  queen  of 
his  heart,  was  duly  warned  by  the  anxious  Harriet.  The 
simple  girl  wanted  to  see  the  end  of  love's  sweet  story, 
this  living  serial,  under  her  own  eyes. 

'  <  Miss  Lyndon  has  had  a  telegram  this  morning,  and  is 
wrought  up  a  good  deal,  sir.  Good  luck  to  you,  for  a 
bright-hearted  young  gentleman,"  murmured  Harriet,  as 
her  plump  hand  sought  her  pocket  receptacle  of  Jack  Otis 
sudden  largesse.  These  were  offerings  at  the  shrine  of 
roguish  Dan  Cupid. 

Miss  Lyndon  was  pacing  her  salon,  in  agitated  expecta- 
tion, when  Jack  entered.  His  first  glance  at  her  sweet 
face  dispelled  his  previously  fixed  intention  "to  attempt 
the  grand  coup." 

For,  frankly  holding  out  both  her  hands,  she  cried,  "I 
am  so  glad  that  you  are  here,  now  you  are  the  only  one 
whom  I  can  trust.  I  wish  your  aid,  your  serious  advice 
in  a  vitally  important  matter." 

"There  is  a  gentleman  coming  from  America  who  has 
arrived  last  night  at  Liverpool.  I  have  received  a  tele- 
gram that  he  reaches  London  to-night,  and,  he  asks  me  to 
fix  an  hour  for  an  early  interview  to-morrow.  I  do  not 
know  the  person.  I  wish,  therefore,  some  one  to  be  pres- 
ent as  my  witness,  as  my  adviser,  perhaps.  I  cannot  ask 
Mr.  Thomas,  especially  as  this  business  might  change  all 
my  professional  plans.      Can  I  count  upon  you?" 

The  Bostonian's  heart  froze  within  him.  "  Host  cer- 
tainly,"   he    said    with    a    vain    attempt   at   cheerfulness. 


MRS.  HAILEY  OSGOOD'S  GARDEN  PARTY.       405 

"That  comes  of  the  farce  of  the  'brother'  business,"  he 
gloomily  reflected.  "I  am  now  too  late  and  I  might  have 
spoken  in  time." 

"I  can  give  you  all  my  time  to-morrow,"  he  very  glumly 
said.  "  Shall  I  call  on  the  gentleman  and  arrange  for  an 
interview?     Where  will  it  occur,  here?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  doubtfully  said.  "  I  have  tele- 
graphed to  the  .address  of  the  gentleman's  banker,  and  I 
neither  know  his  name  nor  his  hotel.  I  wish  to  advise 
on  that  very  matter  with  you,  first.  Any  other  place  in 
London  would  be  suitable,  but  not  here,  not  here,  or 
where  the  Thomas  family  would  know.  I  do  not  wish  this 
person  either  to  know  where  I  live  or  who  you  are.  Now, 
where  would  be  a  suitable  place  for  such  an  interview?" 
she  smiled  brightly  up  at  him  in  her  implicit  trust  in  the 
genius  of  Brother  Jack. 

The  Bostonian  passed  his  hand  dreamily  over  his  brow. 
"  Oh !  yes !  I  see,"  he  stammered.  "A  person  whom  you  do 
not  know.  Must  not  know  either  of  us.  I  should  say  a 
strange  sort  of  business  meeting.  He  has  telegraphed  you, 
of  course  he  knows  your  name?" 

Otis  was  astounded,  as  Gladys  smiled  and  said  triumph- 
antly, "Not  at  all.  The  message  was  sent  to  'X.  Y.  Z.,' 
and  he  must  not  meet  Mr.  Thomas,  who  knows  so  far  noth- 
ing of  this  business." 

The  puzzled  Bostonian  dropped  his  saddened  eyes.  "It 
would  be  as  well  to  have  such  an  interview  at  a  lawyer's 
office  or  a  bank." 

"Precisely  what  I  wish  to  avoid,"  smiled  Gladys,  who 
now  secretly  enjoyed  Brother  Jack's  crestfallen  humilia- 
tion. A  rosy  little  devil  in  her  heart  was  teasing  him. 
"  It  is  a  personal  matter  and  relates  only  to  myself,"  she 
vivaciously  continued. 

"If   you   could   give   me  any    idea  of    the  nature  of 


406  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

the  business,"  Otis  gloomily  remarked,  rising  and  pac- 
ing the  room.  His  funereal  manner  moved  her  to 
secret  laughter.  The  witch !  He  stole  furtive  glances  at 
her  sweet  face  in  a  distant  mirror,  and  was  singularly 
near  entrapping  the  woman  he  idolized,  in  one  rash  fleeting 
glance  of  loving  tenderness.  Alas!  for  the  opacity  of  the 
man,  whose  foot  was  lingering  on  the  portal  of  his  longed 
for  paradise. 

He  could  not  read  the  hidden  lesson  of  her  sweetly  shin- 
ing eyes,  the  rapture  of  that  loving,  yearning  bosom, 
which  was  now  stirred  with  thoughts  of  him  alone.  In 
the  supreme  trial  of  her  life,  "forgetful  of  her  sorrow, 
unmindful  of  her  pain,"  she  turned  with  all  a  fond  woman's 
confidence  to  the  one  man  she  cherished,  a  chosen  king  to 
rule  in  her  fluttering  heart,  and,  yet,  a  feeling  that 
she  would  not  that  he  should  steal  upon  her  secret  too 
soon,  "  her  timid  words  of  maiden  welcome  "  had  chilled 
his  heart. 

She  knew  well  that  he  loved  her.  Miss  Lyndon  had  long 
since  fathomed  the  guilty  secret  of  the  transfer  of  his 
"architectural  researches"  from  gay  Paris  to  sober  Lon- 
don. "  Brother  Jack  "  was  so  anxious  not  to  crush  the 
tender  blossom  of  a  love  which  had  stolen  unseen  into  the 
growing  light  of  their  lonely  lives,  that  he  feared  to  cull 
it.  And  yet,  in  his  sudden  alarm  his  cheeks  betrayed  the 
rush  of  rapture  her  coming  brought  to  him. 

"  I  can  tell  you  all  later,  but  not  until  we  have  finished 
this  strange  business,  and  that  depends,  too,  so  largely  upon 
you,"  Miss  Lyndon  smiled,  "for  I  don't  know  anything 
about  it  yet  myself.  Neither  the  man  have  I  seen,  nor  do 
I  know  the  precise  nature  of  his  business.  All  I  only  do 
know  is,  that  it  is  all  important  to  me,  to  my  future  life.  I 
have  some  valuable  papers  which  I  cannot  allow  to  leave 
my  possession,  and  only  in  your  presence,  will  I   exhibit 


mrs.   iiailey  Osgood's  garden  party.  407 

them  to  this  stranger,  or  allow  you  to  take  them  away  for 
examination,  but  only  in  your  presence,  not  to  be  out  of 
your  sight  for  a  single  moment.  I  cannot  trust  any  one 
but  you,  in  London,  and  I  need  a  friend  now.  I  have  only 
you  in  the  world.  I  am  alone,"  she  softly  sighed.  The 
tell-tale  blood  leaped  to  Jack  Otis'  bronzed  cheeks.  His 
heart  was  thrilled  with  that  infinite  surging  tide  of  love 
whose  sweetness  brings  the  most  exquisite  pain. 

<k  I  will  do  what  you  wish.  I  will  guard  your  trust,  with 
my  life."  Their  eyes  met,  and  her  hand  in  some  strange 
way,  had  stolen  into  his  browned  palm.  The  mighty  oars- 
man did  not  know  that  he  almost  crushed  that  slender 
hand  as   he  said,  for  their  dreaming  eyes  had  met : 

"Now,  to  arrange  at  once  for  the  meeting.  Name  to- 
morrow at  three  o'clock,  say  in  the  parlors  of  my  own 
lodging-house.  You  can  come  there  with  your  maid,  and 
my  good  landlady  will  give  up  to  you  the  separate  parlor, 
and  I,  will  await  the  gentleman  in  the  front  room,  so  there 
will  be  no  chance  either  for  him  to  get  away  or  for  you  to 
be  surprised.  I  can  follow  him  too,  and  see  where  his 
haunts  are." 

The  two  young  heads  were  dangerously  near  each  other 
several  times,  as  Brother  Jack  concocted  a  telegram  which 
conveyed  the  required  information. 

The  nervous  haste  with  which  Otis  escaped  to  send  the 
message  himself,  was  due  to  a  sudden  feeling  of  manly 
generosity  which  forbade  him  to  force  himself  upon  the 
confidence  of  the  beautiful  orphan.  But,  the  stars  were 
shining  in  his  ardent  soul;  her  voice  was  singing  in  his 
heart,  as  he  hastened  away  to  the  telegraph  office!  The 
pressure  of  her  trembling  hand,  the  loving  glances  of  her 
beautiful  downcast  eyes  into  which  a  strange,  sweet  light 
had  stolen,  told  the  unselfish  lover  that  the  Rose  of  Life's 
sweet  mystery  was  slowly  unfolding  in  the  guarded  temple 
of  her  fond  womanly  heart. 


408  MISS    DEVEREUX   OF   THE    MAEIQUITA. 

They  were  drifting  dangerously  near,  and  the  recording 
angel  was  on  watch,  with  laughing  eyes,  looking  at  Otis' 
overcrowded  columns.  "More  lover's  fibs,"  he  smiled, 
and  waited! 

"It's  a  clear,  cool-headed  young  woman  whom  I  have  to 
deal  with,"  mused  Waldo  Strong,  as  he  hurried  out  of  the 
head  office  of  the  Angio-Californian  that  afternoon.  He 
had  fortunately  been  able  to  catch  the  ear  of  the  "great 
mogul "  of  the  Anglo  bank,  for  a  few  moments.  Driving 
from  St.  Pancras  station,  he  obtair-ed  all  his  telegrams 
and  letters. 

The  "head  manager,"  calling  in  a  grave  junior,  said: 
"  Mr.  Morton,  Barrister  Strong  has  the  absolute  confidence 
of  our  San  Francisco  house.  You  are  to  do  everything 
he  wishes,  reporting  only  viva  voce  to  me  alone.  He 
wishes  to  be  put  in  communication  with  Scotland  Yard,  as 
he  has  a  'confidential  London  inquiry.'  Now,  give  him 
your  time  and  every  facility." 

The  travel-jaded  lawyer  was  overjoyed  as  he  drove  back 
to  "Morleys,"  to  open  a  brief  note  from  Mrs.  Hammond 
giving  him  her  London  address.  A  sudden  flush  of  hope 
reddened  his  cheek.  "  I  shall  perhaps  meet  Gladys  Lyn- 
don! At  any  rate,  I  will  know  all  the  details  of  her  life. 
If  I  can  find  time  I  shall  go  over  to  Paris,  but  first  to 
run  down  my  trump  card,  Mr.  Hooper.  The  X.  Y.  Z.  ap- 
pointment at  three  will  give  me  time  to  get  the  Scotland 
Yard  detectives  at  work  to-morrow." 

He  chafed  in  vain  suspense,  for  three  hours  that  night, 
in  the  corridors  of  Mrs.  Hammond's  hotel,  until  that  lady 
returned,  laughing  with  the  lingering  memories  of  a  happy 
theater  supper,  which  she  had  vastly  enjoyed  under  the 
escort  of  General  Hiram  Buford.  The  two  men  ex- 
changed greetings  of  surprise,  as  they  met  at  the  lift. 

With  a  quick  motion,  she  signaled  to  Strong,  her  dainty 


MRS.  HAILEY  OSGOOD'S  GARDEN  PARTY.       409 

finger  on  her  rosy  lips.  "  I  shall  be  at  home  to-morrow 
evening,"  she  whispered,  under  her  breath.  "Come  at 
eight,"  and  so,  the  baffled  lawyer  returned  to  his  hotel. 

It  was  a  little  bit  of  social  diplomacy  on  the  part  of 
the  quick-witted  woman  who  weighed  the  two  men  in  the 
financial  balance,  and  dared  not  offend  the  experienced 
Buford. 

"  Strong  has  some  important  business  of  my  husband's 
in  his  hands,"  murmured  Milly,  "  and,  as  he  makes  a  short 
stay,  wished  to  get  some  signatures  and  papers  from  me." 

The  doubtful  Hiram  swallowed  this  ghost  story.  "I'll 
keep  a  mighty  close  look  out  on  that  lawyer  chap,"  he 
glowered.     General  Buford  was  a  stern  monopolist! 

A  morning  at  Scotland  Yard  and  the  bank,  prepared 
Waldo  Strong  in  very  good  humor  for  the  business  of  the 
afternoon. 

When  he  had  finished  his  story  as  regarded  Mr.  James 
Walter  Hooper,  the  chief  detective  said  with  a  quiet  smile, 
"I  am  not  allowed,  Counselor,  to  tell  you  what  I  know, but 
the  credentials  you  have  from  the  Anglo  bank,  warrant  me 
in  telling  you  that  in  a  week  you  shall  have  an  opportunity 
to  speak  at  your  leisure  with  your  man. "  The  grim  irony 
touched  the  lawyer. 

"  Then,  you  know  where  he  is?  "  Strong  eagerly    cried. 

"  Ask  me  nothing  now,"  the  good-humored  official  said. 
"  Come  back  here  in  a  week.  On  condition  that  you  do  not 
mention  this  man's  name  to  a  living  being  till  then,  I  will 
show  him  to  you."  And,  he  made  a  motion  illustrative  of 
the  snapping  of  the  "  Queen's  jewelry"  on  two  wrists. 

"I  understand,"  the  joyful  lawyer  said,  as  he  gave  his 
pledge  as  an  advocate. 

"It  is  a  very  grave  and  quiet  matter  and  you  Avill  know 
all  later,"  the  chief  inspector  remarked,  "for  your  addi- 
tional information  has  largely  aided  me  in  solving  one 
misty  point.      I  am  your  debtor,  sir." 


410  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"  One  stroke  of  good  fortune!  Now,  for  the  crisis  of  my 
life,"  mused  Waldo  Strong,  as  he  deliberately  proceeded 
to  the  rendezvous  with  X.  Y.  Z.  His  professional  caution 
caused  him  to  walk  a  dozen  times  past  the  house  before  he 
pulled  the  well-polished  bell    handle,  the  slavey's  pride. 

His  bank  detective  had  also  reconnoitered  that  very  morn- 
ing. "  Bless  you,  sir,  all  square  there.  One  of  the  most 
respectable  London  apartment  houses;  all  as  regular  as  can 
be.  A  very  nice  class  of  people  always  there.  No  shady 
parties." 

Waldo  Strong  was  confronted  at  the  door  by  a  dapper 
little  man,  Mr.  Jack  Otis'  lightning  English  "gentleman's 
man." 

"Mr.  X.  Y.  Z.  to  see  Miss  X.  Y.  Z.  " 

"Yes  sir!  This  way!  Front  parlors,  sir,"  and  the  cau- 
tious lawyer  soon  stood  open-eyed  and  hat  in  hand  in  the 
presence  of  Mr.  Jack  Otis. 

"  Will  you  be  seated,  sir,"  cordially  said  Jack,  who  had 
at  once,  sized  up  the  respectable  stranger.  "  A  cool  head, 
a  sharp  legal  file,  a  man  who  thoroughly  knows  his  busi- 
ness," thought  Jack. 

"Ah!  an  American,  some  go-between,"  was  Strong's  in- 
stant judgment. 

"  I  fully  represent  the  young  lady  you  wish  to  see,"  re- 
marked Otis  quietly,  "and,  she  has  requested  me  to  be 
present  at  your  interview,"  Jack  continued  gravely.  "As 
she  is  an  orphan  and  I  am  at  present,  her  only  adviser,  I 
will  remain." 

"  I  would  prefer  to  have  the  young  lady  state  so  her- 
self," said  Strong.  "There  is  no  reason,  however,  that 
we  should  not  proceed  at  once  to  business." 

1 '  I  have  come  from  a  far  country  to  transact  this  affair 
as  rapidly  as  possible.  I  will  not  delay  you,  Mr.  X.  Y. 
Z.,"  smiled  Jack  Otis.  "  Will  you  kindly  show  me  what 
credentials  you  have  with  you  from  the  young  lady." 


MRS.  HAILEY  OSGOOD'S  GARDEN  PARTY.      411 

" 1  have  both  your  San  Francisco  cablegrams,  and  Liver- 
pool dispatches." 

"  You  should  have  her  letter,  and  some  dispatches  also." 

"Here  they  are!"  briskly  said  the  lawyer,  and,  the  two 
puzzled  men  examined  the  papers  mutually  exchanged. 
The  word  "Correct,"  was  a  simultaneous  exclamation. 

"  I  will  bring  the  young  lady  in,  now,"  said  Otis,  "pre- 
mising that  I  am  to  be  present  on  her  behalf,  and  to  con- 
trol in  my  own  keeping  all  documents  which  she  exhibits, 
which  articles,  will  not  for  the  present  be  parted  with." 

"That's  perfectly  fair,"  answered  Strong,  whose  nerve 
tension  of  months  of  dreaming  was  maddening.  His  en- 
emy was  almost  within  the  prison  gates  yawning  for  him 
now. 

Jack  Otis  lightly  swept  back  the  sliding  doors,  and  led 
the  woman  he  loved  out  into  the  light  of  the  front  draw- 
ing room. 

The  counselor  had  affected  to  gaze  on  the  cream-colored 
dullness  of  the  narrow  street  vista,  as  he  wondered  what 
manner  of  woman  Miss  Devereux  might  be.  He  slowly 
turned  as  the  doors  slid  apart.  Dropping  his  hat  and  a 
bundle  of  papers,  he  then  cried  with  a  shout  of  surprise, 
"Miss  Lyndon,  Gladys  Lyndon!  My  God!  Why  are  you 
here?  What  do  you  here?  " 

Jack  Otis  was  standing  between  them,  his  eyes  resting 
eagerly  on  the  face  of  his  beloved,  now  marble  in  its 
pallor.     A  thousand  mad  conjectures  thronged  his  brain! 

The  splendid  eyes  sought  his  as  the  s^irl  timidly  said : 
"Mr.  Strong,  I  am  X.  Y.  Z." 

The  lawyer  sprang  to  her  side,  and  grasped  her  two 
hands,  trembling  in  a  wild  excitement. 

"  And,  your  name  is?  " 

Gladys  fixed  her  eyes  full  on  Jack  Otis,  as  she  gently 
released  her  slender  hands. 


412  MISS    DEVEREUX    OP    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"I  am  Hope  Devereux,  the  only  child  of  Robert  and 
Mary  Devereux,"  she  said,  with  a  proudly  uplifted  brow. 

Otis  started  and  sprang  to  her  side. 

' '  And,  your  father  was  the  owner  of  three-quarters  of 
the  Mariquita  mine  at  Virginia  City.,' 

The  gates  of  the  dim  past  were  slowly  swinging  back. 

"He  was,"  faltered  Gladys,  who  had  now  sunk  into  a 
chair  and  covered  her,  eyes  with  her  hands.  "  I  have  his 
letters  up  to  the  very  week  of  his  death,  for  all  we 
knew,  before  my  mother's  death,  was  that  he  had  been 
foully  murdered  by  a  ruffian,  at  Willows  Cross  Roads,  on 
his  way  home  to  us." 

"And,  he  never  sold  it — the  Mariquita — to  your  know- 
ledge?" the  lawyer  cried,  note-book  in  hand. 

"  His  very  last  letter  states  that  he  was  then  negotiating 
for  the  sale  of  his  two-thirds  to  a  rich  rancher,  named 
Holman,  for  a  very  large  sum  of  money,  as  both  he  and 
his  partner  were  penniless." 

"What  is  the  purpose  of  all  this,  sir?"  demanded  Otis, 
who  now  saw  the  form  of  his  beloved  beginning  to  droop  in 
a  sudden  weakness.  The  agitation  swept  her  soul  in 
storm! 

"If  what  you  say  is  true,"  Strong  faltered,  still  amazed, 
"then,  you  are  now  a  millionairess  in  your  own  right. 
Miss  Devereux  of  the  Mariquita,  otherwise  known  as  the 
<  Lone  Star,'  and,  stolen  from  you  by  Frederick  Wyman." 

One  gasping  sigh,  and  it  was  Jack  Otis's  strong  arms 
which  raised  the  falling  form  of  the  girl  who  had  tried 
to  spring  to  her  feet. 

He  fiercely  shook  Strong  off,  and  loudly  cried  "  Har- 
riet!" 

The  good-humored  face  of  the  abigail  paled  in  a  sudden 
horror,  as  Jack  Otis  bore  the  senseless  girl  to  a  divan. 

"Call   Mrs.  Quimby   here!      Do    all  you  can.    Quick! 


MRi.    HAILEY    OSGOOD*  S    GARDEN    PARTY.  413 

quick!"  he  cried,  and  then  bidding  his  man  bring  the 
nearest  doctor,  he  rejoined  the  still  astonished  Mr.  Waldo 
Strong  in  the  front  parlor. 

Jack  Otis  was  surprised  at  the  changed  face  he  saw  as 
the  lawyer  raised  his  bowed  head,  for  the  tidings  of  her 
good  fortune,  had  also  conveyed  to  the  champion  of  her 
rights  in  one  brief  moment  the  knowledge  that  he  was  to 
be  a  wanderer  henceforth  in  life,  haunted  only  by  hopes 
that  failed,  and  evermore  sadly  alone,  for  this  bright- 
browed  young  stranger  was  the  man  she  loved! 

There  was  no  response  by  the  Calif orni an,  when  Otis 
said  slowly.  "This  is  indeed  a  strange,  very  strange 
story.  You  know  the  responsibility  of  such  representations 
I  presume,  sir?" 

The  lawyer  bowed  his  head  again  in  a  grave  silence. 

But,  when  Gladys  Lyndon  came  forth,  pale  and  trembling 
to  be  met  by  both  the  excited  men,  the  lawyer  had  found 
fitting  words  at  length.  "It  shall  be  the  one  crowning 
happiness  of  my  life  that  I  brought  to  you,  the  glad  news  of 
your  splendid  inheritance.  It  will  be  the  first  duty  of 
my  life  to  restore  it  intact  to  you,  and  also,  to  punish  the 
thief  who  now  stands  as  a  dark  shadow  behind  the  murder 
of  your  father.     Wyman  is  a  consummate  villain !" 

Hope  Devereux  silently  placed  the  two  men's  hands  in 
each  others.  Through  her  happy  tears  she  smiled.  '  <  This 
is  the  one  man  here  who  has  befriended  me  in  my  very 
darkest  days,  Mr.  John  Otis,"  she  said,  awkwardly  enough, 
for  the  word  "Jack"  was  trembling  on  her  lips.  A 
peculiar  smile  flitted  over  the  lawyer's  face  as  she  added: 
"He  is  the  only  one  on  earth  whom  I  trust,  but  you. 
Mr.  Waldo  Strong,  counselor  at  law  of  San  Francisco," 
she  murmured,  as  she  turned  again  to  her  wondering 
comrade  of  the  interrupted  "  architectural  explorations." 
"  It  all  seems  so  strange." 


414  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

Jack  Otis  suddenly  bethought  him  the  star  of  the 
Albert  Hall  was  obliged  to  sing  on  that  very  evening. 
"  I  presume,  Mr.  Strong,  you  can  briefly  tell  Miss  Lyn- 
don," he  smiled,  "what  practical  steps  you  would  in- 
augurate?" 

"  You  must  not  forget  that  you  sing  to-night,"  he  mean- 
ingly said,  with  a  glance  at  the  newly  born  Hope  Dever- 
eux. 

In  a  few  words  Strong  learned  of  all  the  surroundings 
of  Miss  Lyndon.  He  had  already  formulated  his  whole 
plan.  "  You  must  simply  be  '  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon'  here 
until  I  release  you,"  he  said.  "I  presume  you  will  allow 
me  to  bring  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  at  once  to  bay.  After 
you  are  made  administratix  of  your  father's  estate,  you 
can  then,  choose  a  permanent  legal  adviser.  It  would  be  a 
too  long  story  to  tell  what  led  me  to  the  discovery  of  Wo- 
man's vile  rascality.  Your  own  past  life  does  not  come 
in  question.  All  I  wish  to  do,  is  to  see  enough  of  your 
legal  proofs  to  establish,  beyond  a>  doubt,  that  you  are 
Robert  Devereux's  only  heir  and  only  daughter.  I  wish 
also  the  names  of  any  living  witness  who  knew  you  all 
three  together  alive." 

"There  is  but  one  person,  a  widow,  but  happily  now 
living  in  San  Francisco,"  said  Miss  Hope  Devereux,  her 
eyes  tilling  with  tears. 

"  Good!  "  cried  Strong,  "  Now,  I  want  the  'picture  you 
wrote  you  had,  and  the  papers.  Let  me  simply  glance  at 
them  here?  The  next  steps  are  all  easy  enough.  I  cable  to 
my  Virginia  City  legal  associate  to  apply  openly  for  letters 
of  administration  on  your  father's  estate,  in  your  own 
name;  also  instantly,  to  file  a  contest  in  your  name  in  the 
matter  of  the  issuance  of  a 'IT.  S.  patent  for  the  'Lone 
Star'  mine,  once  the  <  Mariquita,'  to  the  robber  Wyman. 
We  have  nearly  thirty  days  to  act  in  each  matter.     I  will 


MRS.    HAILEY    OSGOOD'S    GARDEN   PARTY.  415 

thus  be  back  in  San  Francisco  ready  to  act  and  verify  the 
proofs.  We  will  take  the  mine  at  once  out  of  Wyman's 
hands,  and  his  own  one-quarter,  will  pay  the  legal  ex- 
penses, and  all  that  he  has  used  in  unpaid  back  profits. 
The  Mariquita  has  doubled  in  value  in  three  months! 
All  you  have  to  do  is  to  authorize  me  to  act  so  far  as  your 
attorney." 

"But,  I  have  no  money  to  fight  this  desperate  man 
with,"  murmured  Hope  Devereux. 

< « I  have !  Plenty  of  it,  too !  and  at  your  service !"  in  a  ring- 
ing voice,  cried  Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis  enthusiastically  for- 
getting himself,  as  he  sprung  to  his  feet.  *  ''Fight  the  mean 
rascal  out  at  once,  Mr.  Strong,"  he  cried.  "Telegraph 
at  once  your  notice  of  contest,  and  the  probate  application 
orders.  Then,  to-morrow,  shall  we  all  meet  here  at  say  ten 
o'clock?  for,  Gladys  you  need  rest,"  he  said,  and  their 
eyes  met  in  a  strange  confusion. 

Otis  was  in  the  full  swing  of  a  strange  new-born  sense 
of  power,  for  when  he  had  vigorously  referred  to  the 
money  backing,  a  little  hand,  stole  into  his,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  an  angel  near  him  had  softly  whispered, 
"  Jack."  It  was,  in  fact,  an  involuntary  comment  of  Miss 
Hope  Devereux,  who,  at  that  particular  moment,  could  not 
see  her  gallant  young  backer  standing  there,  proud  and 
thrilled,  for  very  happy  tears  had  blinded  her  gentle  eyes! 

It  was  a  sweet  surrender! 

"We  must  not  be  seen  by  any  Calif ornians  here,  in  our 
apparent  business  conference.  "Now,  remember,"  said 
Strong.  You  are  positively  still  only  Gladys  Lyndon,  to 
all."    . 

"I  can  keep  a  secret,"  smiled  Miss  Lyndon/  'even  Mr. — " 

"Jack,"  promptly  interpolated  Otis,  as  she  hesitated. 

"Even  Mr.  Jack,"  she  said  with  a  wondrous  smile, 
"  does  not  yet,  know  the  story  of  my  early  life,"  but,  there 
was  an  infinite  promise  to  him  in  her  tender  smile. 


4  If)  MISS    REVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUJTA. 

"Good!"  said  Strong.  "Now  I  will  bring  Mrs  Ham- 
mond down  to  hear  you  sing  to-night  at  the  hall.  It  will 
be  very  natural  that  I  should  also  call  on  you.  The  rest 
is  easy  enough.  I  will,  if  you  allow  me,  take  these  letters, 
and  the  pictures  away  and  have  good  negatives  of  all  of 
them  taken,  this  very  afternoon.  Then  they  will  be  safe 
beyond  accident.  I  will  study  all  the  originals,  and  re- 
store all  to  you  to-morrow  morning.  They  must  at  once 
go  into  a  bank  vault  for  safe  keeping.  They  are  your 
little  deeds  of  fortune.     A  million  is  a  great  stake." 

The  girl  was  wrapped  in  a  dream  mist.  "Is  it  possible! 
Is  it  possible,"  she  cried,  "  I  am  so  rich?  So  needlessly 
rich;"  and  a  voice,  soft  as  the  falling  dews  of  night  whis- 
pered: "My  poor  darling  mother!  My  dear  father." 

The  men's  eyes  met  in  a  mute  compassion! 

"I  will  hasten  away,  send  the  dispatches  and  get  to 
work."  He  then  took  Hope  Devereux's  hand  in  his.  "May 
God  bless  you  in  all  your  good  fortune,"  he  simply  said. 

"You  have  implicit  confidence,  Mr.  Strong,"  the 
startled  heiress  replied,  with  a  smile,  which  recalled  to  him 
days  when  he  wove  dreams  of  a  future,  now  fled  forever. 
"  Alas!  the  smile  that  blessed  one  lover's  heart,  has  also 
broken  many  more,"  in  other  days  than  our  later  Bonanza 
days,  but,  a  seal  was  placed  upon  the  stone  rolled  against 
the  tomb  in  Waldo  Strong's  heart.  "  I  will  be  her  friend 
for  life,"  he  murmured.  He  might  have  said,  her  slave, 
her  bondman  of  old. 

Most  strangely,  his  departure  left  Hope  Deverenx, 
shame-faced  and  blushing,  standing  silent  there,  before  her 
lover.  With  the  speed  of  a  swift  Camilla,  she  "fell  back 
in  good  order"  upon  the  anxious  Harriet. 

And  so,  it  came  to  pass  that  Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis, 
whose  "  heart  circulation  "  was  very  strangely  affected, 
only  submissively,  murmured  a  trifling  question  as  the  god- 


MRS.    HAILEY    OSGOOD'S    GARDEN   PARTY.  41 7 

dess  reappeared.  "  Shall  I  call  a  carriage?  It  is  better, 
and,  you  need  immediate  rest,"  and  thus,  under  the  watchful 
brown  eyes  of  Harriet,  the  two  hearts  so  drawn  to  each 
other  were  still  wary  and  watchful  of  an  all  too  patent 
double  secret. 

Jack  already  saw  a  line  of  breakers  foaming  ahead!  His 
own  pride  and  reserve  now  tied  his  halting  tongue,  but  the 
sweet  wonder  in  their  eyes,  had  betrayed  them  both. 

"  I  presume  you  will  come  to  the  hall  as  usual,"  fal- 
tered Gladys. 

'*  If  you  think  bestj"  humbly  said  Otis. 

"I  do  think  best,"  the  glowing  beauty  softly  said,  as 
they  alighted.  She  turned  upon  him  the  sweetest  face  in 
the  world,  glowing  with  a  new  happiness.  "  I  must  talk 
to  you  to-night  and  I  still  need  your  advice."  She  paused 
on  the  threshold  of  her  home,  and  then  gave  him  her  hand. 
"  Good-bye,"  she  murmured,  "Jack!"  and,  the  sudden 
eclipse  of  her  beauty  left  him  standing  there,  alone,  in  a 
speechless  delight! 

But  before  nine  o'clock  that  evening,  the  precise  hour 
at  which  he  would  gaze  again  on  that  beloved  face,  the 
Bostonian  felt  that  the  sudden  unequality  to  be  of  wealth 
lifted  her  now  far  beyond  him!  "  Yes,"  he  said  gloomily 
after  pacing  his  rooms.  "  It  is  all  over."  He  had  stolen 
into  the  lonely  drawing-room,  and  kissed  the  very  place 
where  her  head  had  rested  on  the  divan.  His  strong  arms 
were  tingling  with  the  contact  of  that  dear  and  beloved 
helpless  form,  which  fate  had  so  strangely  made  a  burden 
of  delight  to  him.  "  If  I  were  only  alone  with  her,  out  at 
sea,  only  we  two,  and  the  stars  hanging  above  us  there!" 
And  so,  he  ran  into  the  realms  of  cloudland  and  fancy, 
dreaming  that  he  was  sailing  off  shore  again  with  her, 
sailing  on  forever  on  an  unknown  sea,  far  out  of  sight  of 
any  land,  to  the  soft  music  of  their  own  beating  hearts: 


418  MISS   DEVEREUX    OF  THE    MARIQUITA. 

OFF  SHORE. 

Around,  a  dark  and  starless  sea, 
Throbs  in  its  wind  swept  minor  strain: 

The  rising  gale  sings  in  the  sail, 
In  varying  tones,  that  ring  again. 

The  vault  unflecked  by  silvery  star, 
Domes  high  above!  Ah!  Lost  we  are, 

Beyond  all  thralls  of  earthly  calls! 
The  breaking  surge  at  intervals, 

Throws  phosphor  sparks  of  gold  on  high! 

Here,  with  no  lingering  cares  hard  by, 
We  drift!  Sweep  on!  Oh  Happy  sea! 

My  love  is  nestling  near  to  me. 

The  land  we  knew  is  lost  to  view, 
There's  not  one  gleaming  spark  in  sight, 

Our  heartthrobs,  golden  moments  note, 
As,  shadowed,  in  the  night  we  float! 

Sing  on!  Wild  Winds!  Sing  in  my  heart! 

Ah!  Love!  For  never  shall  we  part, 
But  sail  on  life's  o'ershadowed  main, 

Till  love  shall  waft  us,  "  Home  again." 

For  our  love  knows  nor  bounds,  nor  lines, 
No  stretch  of  Time,  nor  world's  confines, 

The  heart  which  throbs  alone  for  me, 
Is  mine — to  all  eternity. 

Waldo  Strong  was  composed  and  grave-faced  as  he  sat 
down  to  rest  in  his  rooms  at  Merley's  that  afternoon.  He 
had  found  a  note  from  the  Chief  Inspector  at  Scotland 
Yard,  waiting  in  his  rooms.  ''Don't  leave  town,  may 
want  you  now  at  any  moment;  will  send  for  you."  This 
brought  a  new  thrill  of  triumph  to  his  heart. 

He  had  sent  an  appropriate  offering  of  flowers  to  Mrs, 
Hammond,,  wTith  a  request  for  her  kindly  presence  at  the 
concert  under  his  escort.  His  photographic  labors  were 
all  over. 

Sick  at  heart,  he  threw  himself  in  a  chair,  and  reviewed 


MBS.     HAILEY    OSGOOD'S    GARDEN    PARTY.  410 

the  situation.  He  sat  there  until  he  had  smothered  down 
the  rising  sobs  of  his  saddened  heart.  "  To  bring  this 
vast  fortune  to  her  very  feet,  to  see  her  happy,  so  happy, 
in  another's  arms.     It  is  the  crucifixion  of  my  heart." 

One  new  idea  haunted  him.  "  I  will  closely  watch  Mrs. 
Hammond.  She  has  tried  to  throw  this  pure  girl  defence- 
less under  the  influence  of  this  robber,  sneak,  and  second- 
hand murderer.  Did  she  know?"  So,  he  was  very  wary 
when  Mrs.  Hammond  poured  all  her  praises  of  Gladys 
into  his  ear  that  night,  when  the  thunders  of  applause 
shook  the  crowded  house.  He  was  naturally  bound  in 
duty  to  escort  the  velvet-eyed  tourist  to  Miss  Lyndon's 
waiting-room  to  pour  out  once  more  her  renewed  enthu- 
siasm. 

"  It  brings  us  all,  openly  on  the  scene,  at  any  rate!  "  he 
murmured,  as  he  left  the  ladies  together  for  a  few  minutes. 
In  the  lobby,  he  stumbled  over  that  full-blown  Nevada 
giant,  Andrew  Bowen,  Esq.  To  be  dragged  away  for  a 
"  drink,"  was  the  penalty  paid  for  his  recognition.  After 
he  had  learned  of  Bowen's  hurried  run  over,  on  a  daring 
mining  scheme,  a  sudden  thought  animated  the  lawyer. 

"  By  the  way,  Mr.  Bowen,"  he  said,  "  whatever  became 
of  Robert  Devereux,  your  old  Virginia  City  friend?" 

"Blest  if  I  can  tell!"  said  Bowen,  setting  down  the 
glass,  "  I've  often  asked  Wyman.  He,  too,  has  lost  sight 
of  him." 

« 'Does  that  look  like  him?"  quickly  said  Strong,  handing 
him  the  picture  given  to  him  by  Hope  Devereux. 

The  florid  Nevada  capitalist  said  coolly  "Certainly!  It 
is  Bob  Devereux,  one  in  a  thousand,  certainly,  a  good 
picture,  too!  His  very  self,  but  he  was  pulled  down  when 
he  left  us.  This  picture  shows  him  in  good  condition. 
But,  still  any  man  who  ever  knew  him  in  Virginia  City 
would  swear  flat  on  that  picture.     That's  him!     Where 


420  MISS    DEVERETTX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

did  you  get  it?"  cried  Bowen,  turning  his  questioning  eyet 
on  Strong. 

"  That's  the  picture  of  a  man  who  was  murdered  at  Wil- 
low Cross  Roads  in  1864,  not  two  months  after  he  left 
you,   by  that  friend,  Steve  Berard,  the  noted   gambler." 

"I  don't  believe  a  damned  word  of  it,"  roared  out 
Bowen,  greatly  astonished.  "Why  Wyman  was  Berard' s 
partner,  and  I  knew  them  both  very  well  then,  neither  ever 
mentioned  it  to  me.  I  ought  to  know.  I  fired,  myself,  one 
of  a  dozen  shots  that  killed  poor  Steve  and  his  blooded 
racer  in  the  '  101'  uprising.  And,  I've  always  been  mighty 
sorry,  too." 

1 '  I  can  bring  you  a  man  of  the  highest  character  in  San 
Francisco,  Mr.  Bowen,"  said  Strong,  solemnly,  "who  saw 
Steve  Berard  shoot  down  this  unarmed  man.  And,  I  know 
also,  where  his  grave  is  now,  on  Holman's  Ranch." 

Bowen  was  paralyzed. 

"Well!  If  he  was  killed  on  Holman's  Ranch  then  there 
was  some  bloody  rascality  in  it.  Holman  was  an  infernal 
old  cut- throat  and,  <  Jim  Brown,  the  murderer,'  always  hung 
out  there.  I'm  blessed  if  Wyman,  too,  is  not  a  mighty 
close-mouthed  devil.  He  never  whispered  Devereux's 
death  to  me;  and  so,  he  has  known  it  all  these  years?" 

"  He  must  have,"  coolly  said  Strong,  pocketing  the  pic- 
ture. 

"See  here,  Strong,"  anxiously  said  the  rough  diamond, 
"Come  and  see  me  at  the  Hotel  Langham.  I'm  awfully 
worked  up  about  this  disclosure  of  yours.  It  makes  me 
damned  uneasy.  I  have  some  very  valuable  interests  tan- 
gled up  with  this  son  of  a  gun  Wyman.  I  don't  like  the 
looks  of  this  old  thing  at  all.  You  can  put  me  right  on 
the  stand!  If  that's  the  man  was  killed,  then,  that's  Robert 
Devereux." 

"  I  will  come  in  and  see  you,  Bowen,"  said  Strong. 


MRS.  HAILEY  OSGOOD'S  GARDEN  PARTY.       421 

"I  want  your  best  advice,  professionally,  too,'"  growled 
the  frightened  Andy  Bowen,  who  stood  shaken  at  heart 
over  a  second  glass,  and  muttering,  ' 1  Well,  I'll  be  damned ! " 
as  Strong  left  him.  There  were  ugly  thoughts  now  throng- 
ing across  the  startled  miner's  brain! 

"That  nails  down  your  coffin,  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman. 
I  have  got  you  now,"  coldly  decreed  Strong,  as  he  re- 
turned to  the  ladies.  "  This  mean  sneak  used  the  desper- 
ate Hooper  and  this  clumsy  old  Bowen,  as  mere  catspaws. 
With  Stanton,  Bowen,  the  notary,  the  record  books  and 
this  picture  and  the  Willows'  people,  I  fancy  '  Miss  Dever- 
eux  of  the  Mariquita '  is  going  to  have  simply  a  walk  over. 
And  all  I  want  now  to  close  the  circle  of  proofs,  is  Hooper.. 
It  looks,  too,  as  if  Her  Gracious  Majesty,  Queen  Victoria, 
would  make  me  a  present  of  him  very  soon." 

With  all  these  professional  triumphs,  Waldo  Strong's 
heart  still  sank  within  him  as  he  saw  Jack  Otis  enter  the 
carriage,  with  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon  and  her  attendant  maid. 
He  was  strangely  sad  as  he  rolled  along  on  his  homeward 
way  with  Mrs.  Hammond.  A  very  neat  supper  awaited 
them,  and  the  man  of  parchments  was  also  a  bit  of  an 
epicure,  but,  he  had  already  shown  involuntarily  his  distrust 
of  Mrs.  Hammond. 

"Why  did  you  not  let  me  know  that  she  was  singing 
here  at  Albert  Hall?"  he  coldly  said.  "  I  was  about  to 
wander  off  on  a  fool's  trip  to  Paris,  in  search  of  her!  " 

Milly  Hammond  had  finally  determined  to  cleave  alone 
to  the  rock  of  refuge,  Buford.  She  so,  could  afford  the 
malicious  little  cut  she  gave  him.  "I  wished  to  spare  you 
what  you  can  perhaps  easily  see.  Gladys  Lyndon  will 
surely  marry  this  Yankee,  Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis,  who  has 
a  splendid  place  near  Boston.  He  is  of  a  fine  old  Revo- 
lutionary family  and  an  only  son,  independently  rich.  He 
seems  to  be  personally  agreeable  to  her,  does  he  not? " 


422  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

The  lawyer  bit  his  lip,  and  yet,  Strong  did  the  honors  in 
ft  most  stately  guise. 

"I  shall  be  leaving  London  at  once.  I  only  came  over 
on  a  land  matter — a  large  deal  in  some  country  ranches. 
Can  I  do  anything  for  you  in  San  Francisco?  " 

And,  the  cat-like  Milly  smiled  and  said,  "Nothing,  thank 
you.  I,  too,  am  coming  home  very  soon.  You  see  that  I 
have  now  lost  my  traveling  companion." 

Strong  had  enough  of  the  supper  and  the  running  com- 
ments! He  marked  Milly  down,  and  swore  to  even  up, 
some  day. 

"I  fancy  I  sweetened  his  supper  for  him,"  laughed 
Milly,  as  she  reached  her  own  bower,  for  she  had  found 
a  "traveling  companion"  who  pleasantly  replaced  both 
Wyman,  and  the  gentle  girl  whose  feet  had  innocently 
escaped  her  snares.  "I  have  the  only  safe  place  in  the 
whole  little  chess  game  here,"  she  laughed.  "Everything 
to  gain,  and  nothing  to  lose,"  which  was  a  perfectly  cor- 
rect statement  of  the  case,  and  did  credit  to  her  head,  if 
not  to  her  heart.  A  very  thrifty  and  self-satisfied  Messa- 
lina! 

Polaris  looked  down  unwinkingly  from  the  dim,  blue 
vault  above  them,  as  the  two  lovers  stepped  out  of  Miss 
Lyndon's  carriage  at  her  door  after  the  concert.  Hope 
Devereux  was  strangely  agitated,  for,  Strong  had  whispered 
to  her  in  the  waiting  room,  < '  I  have  luckily  found  the  evi- 
dence of  my  man  Bowen  here,  Avhich  binds  Wyman  hand 
and  foot  helpless  at  last  before  you!  Andy  Bowen,  a  rough 
millionaire,  one  of  his  early  partners  in  other  matters,  is  now 
here.  I  can  easily  prove  the  whole  fraud  by  him,  alone. 
It  is  hence,  a  certain  victory!" 

"You  really  don't  need  me,  Hope,  I  am  sure  now," 
murmured  Otis.  "  Your  lawyer,  your  regular  adviser  can 
safely  conduct  all." 


MBS.     HAIIEY    OSGOOD'S    GARDEN   PARTY.  423 

A  soft  pressure  on  his  hand  led  him  captive  by  her  side. 
"Don't  forget,"  said  the  singer  merrily,  "You  alone  are 
to  share  my  secret.  I  shall  make  no  public  avowal  till  all 
is  beyond  doubt.  So,  we  have  a  joint  secret  to  guard.  If 
I  remain  w  Miss  Devereux  of  the  Mariquita,'  Mr.  Waldo 
Strong  shall  be  my  lawyer,  but,  you,"  and  she  fairly  flashed 
a  glance  upon  him,  a  most  provoking  glance  which  made 
him  tremble  in  a  new-born  delight,  "you,  are  to  remain  my 
permanent  adviser;  I  could  not  spare  you,"  and,  a  malicious 
pleasure  tinged  her  voice  as  she  closed,  softly  saying, 
"Brother  Jack!" 

The  Recording  Angel  then  and  there,  started  a  small 
ladies'  column,  for  Miss  Hope  Devereux,  and  he  promptly 
chalked  down  one  deliberate  little  white  fib.  "It  seems 
to  be  that  same  '  Brother  Jack'  business,  all  the  time,"  mur- 
mured the  good  angel,  who  was  a  bit  drowsy.  "Will  they 
never  stop  that  little  fiction?" 

As  Otis  walked  home  on  that  night  of  nights  to  him,  he 
pondered  the.  last  Portia-like  words  of  the  beautiful, 
sweetly  serious  woman,  whom  he  knew  now,  he  loved  madly. 
"You  alone,  are  entitled  to  know  the  whole  story,  the  in- 
nocent secret  of  my  past  life,  and,  you  shall  be  the  very 
first  to  hear  it!  "  A  rosy,  beloved  face,  her  finger  on  her 
smiling  lips,  was  the  last  thing  he  saw  that  night,  as  a  voice 
now  grown  strangely  dear  whispered  "  Wait;"  and,  he  set 
forth  to  linger  in  a  growing  happiness  which  lifted  his  ardent 
soul  toward  the  overhanging  stars.  "So  happy.  She 
loves  me! " 

It  seemed  a  wild  dream,  a  double  happiness,  for 
the  woman  he  blindly  adored  shared  that  happiness  with 
him,  their  two  hearts  beating  only  for  each  other,  alone, 
of  all  the  sons  and  daughters  of  men.  A  blessed  double 
happiness! 

Mr.  Jack  Otis  sat  chafing  in  the  back  drawing:room  for 


424  MISS   DEVEBEUX   OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

an  hour  the  next  morning,  while  he  listened  to  the  grave 
voice  of  the  lawyer  and  the  murmured  replies  of  that  fair- 
est of  clients,  Hope  Devereux.  The  scratching  of  the 
lawyer's  pen  was  only  broken  by  his  pacing  the  room,  in 
sudden  fits  of  cogitation.  When  the  sliding  doors  were 
at  last  opened  by  Strong,  the  lawyer  was  radiant. 

"  There's  not  a  single  link  missing  now,  Mr.  Otis,"  he 
heartily  said.  "  I  shall,  I  think,  hasten  at  once  back  to  San 
Francisco  and  then,  open  every  battery  on  Wyman.  Public 
shame  will  bring  about  a  private  panic  soon  in  this  fellow's 
bosom.  I  shall  take  Andy  Bowen's  deposition  here.  I 
can  easily  see  that  he  is  frightened,  for  he  has  an  immense 
separate  property.  He  evidently  knew  nothing  of  Wy- 
man's  desperate  rascality.  My  associate  in  Virginia  City 
has  already  cabled  me  that  the  papers  will  be  filed  to-day, 
and  a  temporary  injunction  also  asked  for  to  tie  up  the 
whole  mine  and  the  stock  till  the  contest  is  heard." 

"  Now,  sir,  it  is  for  you  to  guard  Miss  Devereux's  pri- 
vacy here.  I  have  a  little  matter  with  the  London  police 
of  some  importance.  A  couple  of  days  will  straighten 
that  out.  I  have  no  hesitancy  in  at  once  bidding  the  An- 
glo-Californian  bank  to  throw  up  any  connection  with  the 
proposed  deal  in  the  « '  Lone  Star. "  It  would  be  a  public  dis- 
honesty. General  Buford  will  also  hear  of  this  move  and 
he  will  surely  cable  Wyman,  so  that  our  man  may  be  all 
ready  to  come  to  terms,  when  I  reach  San  Francisco.  But 
one  thing  I  do  ask  of  you,  both.  Miss  Devereux  must 
sign  no  paper,  listen  to  no  compromise,  discuss  nothing! 
Frederick  Wyman  is  capable  of  any  sly  double  dealing.  I 
alone  control  the  evidence  to  right  Miss  Devereux  and  to 
place  Frederick  Wyman  where  he  belongs,  in  State's  pris- 
on for  life.  That  is  my  share  of  the  work,  in  return  for 
the  score  of  innocent  lives  he  slaughtered  simply  to  break 
the  market, for  I  shall  always  believe  that  in  some  sneaking 


MRS.  HAILEY  OSGOOD^  GARDEN  PARTY.      425 

way,  he  fired  the  mine  himself!  At  any  rate,  his  wretched 
life  is  not  worth  a  pin's  fee,  if  he  ever  shows  up  in  Vir- 
ginia City.     He  is  ruined!" 

"We  will  absolutely  obey  you,"  the  young  couple  cried, 
in  a  strong,  prompt  chorus,  which  brought  a  mournful 
smile  to  Waldo  Strong's  thoughtful  face. 

"Will  you  need  me  to-morrow  for  anything?  "  said  Miss 
Devereux.  "  You  know,"  she  murmured,  turning  to  Jack 
Otis,  "Mrs.  Hailey  Osgood's  garden  party  is  set  for  to- 
morrow. " 

"  Do  not  vary  your  routine  in  one  single  hair,"  earn- 
estly cried  the  advocate.  "  Sing  the  whole  British  public 
into  ecstacy,  it  will  keep  your  mind  busy!  You  are  only 
Miss  Gladys  Lyndon  here,  till  I  cry  presto!  change.  But  I 
beg  you  to  let  Mr.  Otis  go  down  with  me  and  deposit  all 
your  family  relics,  all  these  proofs  in  the  bank  vault.  Your 
receipt  for  them  in  your  own  real  name,  is  your  whole  title 
to  the  Mariquita  mine.  Never  forget  that!  The  bank 
will  make  common  cause  with  you,  against  the  swindler, 
Wyman.  Also,  at  the  last,  General  Bufordwill  join  you, 
too,  for  the  expense  bill  of  this  costly  attempt  to  float  the 
new  compauy  here  must  be  met  by  Wyman  alone!  He 
guaranteed  his  title.  I  will  telegraph  to  each  of  you  here 
when  I  want  you,  for  I  shall  to-morrow  divide  my  time 
between  Bo  wen,  the  photographer,  and  Scotland  Yard!  " 

"Then,  we  will  go  to  the  garden  party?  "said  Hope  Dev- 
ereux, rising. 

"Most  certainly,"  answered  Strong.  "All  I  wish  you 
to  do  is  simply  to  give  me  your  power  of  attorney  here, 
and  then,  to  avoid  the  society  of  all  visiting  Californians, 
Mrs.  Milly  Hammond,  in  particular." 

The  meeting  glances  proved  that  all  present  had  at  last 
fathomed  the  dark  secret  of  Mrs.  Hammond's  wonderful 
volunteer  kindness. 


426  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

"Could  she,  could  Wyman,  have  fancied  that  I  was 
the  heiress  of  the  Mariquita?  "  timidly  questioned  Hope 
Devereux. 

"There  were  other  reasons,  I  fancy,"  said  the  lawyer 
dryly,  as  his  eyes  met  Jack's  meaningly.  He  bundled  up 
his  papers.  "I  see  no  reason  for  my  asking  you  to  come 
to  California,  unless  Wyman  fights  to  the  last,  but,  he  will 
not.  He  cannot!  And,  you  are  far  safer  here.  You  know 
what  this  man  is.  I  count  on  you,  Mr.  Otis,  to  watch  over 
this  young  lady,  clay  and  night. " 

Otis  cast  his  eyes  down  in  a  sudden  confusion,  for  Miss 
Hope  Devereux's  face,  too,  was  rosy  with  the  glow  of  the 
dawn  of  love's  bright  day.  Waldo  Strong's  eyes  were  fixed 
gravely  upon  the  girl  whose  golden  future  now  -stretched 
out  far  and  fair  before  her.  "  With  your  letters  to  Mrs. 
McCabe,  the  records,  the  assistance  of  the  Catholic  clergy, 
and  the  sisters,  not  a  moment's  doubt  can  rest  on  your 
identity.  As  for  the  title,  Mr.  Wy man's  own  rascality  in 
admitting  and  setting  up  a  deed  made  six  months  after 
your  murdered  father's  death,  has  estopped  him  from  any 
new  defense.  No!  he  stands  clearly  within  the  shadow  of 
the  prison  door.  I'll  close  and  lock  it  on  him  forever. 
Only  death  or  flight  can  save  him."  And  the  advocate's 
face  was  as  pitiless  as  a  Sioux  chief  firing  the  fagots  around 
a  captive  Pawnee  brave. 

Waldo  Strong  whistled  cheerfully  at  his  afternoon  work, 
carefully  approving  the  photographer's  prints  of  all  the  doc- 
uments negatived.  "Just  as  well  to  lock  up  the  negatives, 
too,  and  seal  all  my  own  documents." 

On  his  table  at  the  hotel,  a  brief  scrawl  had  also  told  him 
tidings  of  the  gravest  moment.  The  laconic  inspector 
wrote: 

"Come  to  me  to-morrow  evening.  I'll  have  him  there. 
Keep  your  rooms  all  day." 


MRS,  HAILEY  OSGOOD'S  GARDEN  PARTY.       427 

"In  easel  can  get  an  open  confession  from  this  Hooper, 
then  ray  future  work  is  only  a  walk  over,"  said  the  lawyer. 
His  mind  was  exulting  in  the  drawing  of  his  meshes  around 
Wyman.  "  He  ruined  my  life.  I  will  make  him  rue  that 
day!"  sternly  cried  Strong,  as  he  dropped  his  wearied  head 
in  his  hands. 

He  sighed,  "Ah!  God,  How  happy  she  is!  How  ready 
for  love's  sweet  mastery!"  And  then,  he  dreamed  of  the 
past  days,  before  he  had  wandered  away  from  his  successful 
professional  walk,  into  the  mad  speculations  which  wrecked 
his  own  rising  fortunes.  "  It  might  have  been!  It  might 
have  been!"  he  sighed.  "  God  bless  her,"  he  softly  said 
at  last  in  manly  fashion.  "This  Otis  seems  to  be  a  man 
of  men.  A  thoroughbred.   Strange  fatalism  of  love!  " 

Neither  Hope  Devereux  nor  Jack  Otis,  dreamed  that  the 
man  had  under  Minerva's  cold-browed  glances,  nursed  the 
passion  of  a  whole  life,  in  his  strong,  silent  heart,  for, 
"Love  is  blind,"  as  blind  to-day  as  in  the  olden  days,  when 
nymph  and  goddess  gleamed  in  the  fair  Castilian  shades. 
And  blind,  love  will  ever  be!  It  is  the  will  of  the  high 
gods  we  should  not  see  the  sweet  cup  at  our  lips. 

There  was  never  a  function  in  Chiswick-upon-Thames, 
which  excited  as  much  attention  as  Mrs.  Hailey  Osgood's 
never  forgotten  garden  party.  The  grounds  were  gaily 
decorated  in  a  style  which  opened  the  eyes  of  the  snug 
"  Britishers"  clustered  in  the  homelike  villas.  Booth  and 
tent;  parti-colored  flags,  multi-colored  lanterns,  the  pert 
strains  of  provoking  music,  the  gleam  of  gowns  of  all 
rainbowed  colors  on  the  lovely  lawns;  the  chatter  of  happy 
voices, the  bustle  of  moving  crowds  and  all  the  unwonted 
excitement  of  a  "grand  day,"  aroused  the  curiosity  of  the 
external  crowd  gaping  through  the  hedges,  at  the  "swells 
having  no  end  of  a  good  time."  The  violet-eyed,  fresh- 
faced  English  girls,    "  non  angli   sed  angeli,"  cut  wide 


428  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQTTITA. 

swaths  in  the  hearts  of  the  beaux,  who  were  calmly  indif- 
ferent in  manner,  but  veritable  Claude  Melnottes  at  heart! 
The  ice  and  ices  were  broken  rapidly.  Flags  waved,  birds 
twittered,  the  sun  shone  gaily  and  a  particular  hum  of 
grateful  approval  was  murmured  from  group  to  group,  as 
Mr.  Hailey  Osgood  and  his  bewitching  wrife  moved  around 
among  their  guests  on  hospitable  thoughts  intent. 

Miss  Gladys  Lyndon,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Jack  Otis, 
was  welcomed  with  hushed  whispers  of  tribute.  "The 
beautiful  American  singer,  Miss  Lyndon,"  and  sundry 
descendants  of  hardy  Norsemen,  gallant  Normans  and 
fair-skinned  Saxons  growled  inaudibly,  "I  envy  that 
beggar  his  luck!"  for  a  slight  halo  of  proprietorship 
already  seemed  to  linger  around  the  shapely  head  of  the 
Bostonian.  He  was  literally  fulfilling  Strong's  injunction 
to  "  take  care  of  Miss  Lyndon."  The  sun  hung  in  loving 
radiance  over  the  delightful  scene,  and  Jack  Otis  was 
dreaming  now  only  of  a  golden  future,  and  furtively  steal- 
ing glances  at  Hope  Devereux. 

Mrs.  Hailey  Osgood  was  leaning  forward  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  proud  and  radiant  in  her  social  triumph,  as  an 
enthusiastic  guest  toasted,  "Our  noble  host,  Mr.  Hailey 
Osgood,  'for  he's  a  jolly  good  fellow,'  and  all  join  in." 

But,  Jack  Otis  sprang  up  in  wild  protest,  as  three 
stern-faced  looking  men  in  plain  clothes  suddenly  ap- 
peared at  the  side  of  Hailey  Osgood,  who  had  made  a  wild 
dash  from  his  seat.  The  harsh  snapping  of  clicking  steel 
bands  was  ominously  heard! 

Two  men,  blue-shaven  and  athletic  in  build,  with 
gleaning,  earnest  eyes,  wrestled  Mr.  Hailey  Osgood  vio- 
lently down  to  his  seat  as  the  third,  a  folded  paper  in  one 
hand,  a  revolver  hidden  in  the  other,  gravely  said, 
"James  Walter  Hooper,  alias  Compton,  alias  Hailey 
Osgood,  I  arrest  you  in  the  Queen's  name  for  the  crime  of 
forgery!" 


MES.    HAILEY    OSOOOd's    GARDEN   PARTY.  429 

Screaming  women  fainted;  men  in  angry  throngs  sur- 
rounded the  struggling  officers,  who  stoutly  bore  their 
frantic  prisoner  on  through  the  surging  crowd. 

Mrs.  Hailey  Osgood,  a  wild  light  breaking  the  dream- 
ing charm  of  her  splendid  eyes,  had  sprung  at  once  to  her 
husband's  side! 

"It's  all  up,  Vinnie!"  he  fondly  said  with  clouded  eyes. 
"  You  have  nothing  to  do  with  this.  It's  my  own  affair, 
gentlemen,  the  lady  is  out  of  this  matter.  She  knows 
nothing  of  it,  and  took  me  for  better  or  worse." 

Jack  Otis  had  darted  to  the  side  of  the  unhappy  hostess. 
Her  form  was  tottering. 

"Keep  up  a  bright  heart.  You're  all  right,"  said  Hailey 
Osgood,  with  one  last  look  of  burning  love,  the  parting 
message  of  a  life's  devotion,  as  he  was  dragged  forcibly 
away.  He  twisted  his  head  around  and  cried,  "God 
bless  you,  Otis!     Look  out  for  her.     I  won't  forget  you!  " 

The  descent  of  Trenck's  Pandours,  or  the  irruption  of  a 
pattern  squad  of  Manteuffel's  Uhlans,  sword  in  hand, 
could  not  have  created  a  quicker  panic.  The  sun  dis- 
creetly dove  into  a  gray  cloud.  The  wheels  of  vanishing 
carriages  were  heard  crunching  on  gravel  and  rattling  on 
stone,  for,  the  affrighted  guests  fled  to  their  appropriate 
domiciles  now  loathing  contamination,  and  so,  stood  not  in 
the  order  of  their  going. 

In  a  half  hour,  nothing  was  visible  save  a  dense  crowd 
peering  through  the  hedges  at  the  deserted  scene  of  the 
great  fete,  and  struggling  with  the  local  "Bobbies  "  whose 
loud  cries  of  "  move  on"  fell  on  deaf  ears. 

In  the  house  a  funereal  quiet  reigned.  The  servants 
seemed  all  to  be  frozen  at  their  posts,  and  some  dozen  de- 
tectives were  now  carefully  searching  the  house.  In 
"the  banquet  hall  deserted  "the  untasted  feast  awaited 
the  "choice  spirits"  of  the  inner  coterie  who  were  bid- 
den to  stay  and  dine. 


430  MISS    DEVEREUX    OP   THE   MARIQUITA. 

It  was  a  local  sensation  of  the  hugest  dimensions,  and 
the  "British  public"  eagerly  awaited  further  develop- 
ments, as  per  the  reporter's  notes. 

"  Do  -I  consider  myself,  too,  as  under  arrest?"  asked 
Vinnie  Hinton,  her  eyes  now  streaming  with  tears. 
"Poor  old  Jimmy!  "  she  gasped.  "  Loyal  and  game  to  the 
last.  His  only  thought  is  for  me.  God  bless  him.  I 
never  knew  him  till  now! " 

Alas!  She  knew  too  well  in  her  heart  what  awaited 
Mr.  James  Walter  Hooper.  A  life  of  "salutary  restraint," 
"  moderate  diet,"  "healthful  employment,"  "a  judicious 
economy  in  raiment  and  creature  comforts,"  and  "vast 
opportunities  for  moral  reflections."  In  other  words, 
"transportation  for  life,  in  the  Queen's  name!" 

"You  are  so  far,  only  under  surveillance,  Madame," 
said  the  police  sergeaut.  "That  is  at  present.  I  would, 
however,  suggest  that  you  communicate  at  once  with  your 
friends,  and  also  your  counsel." 

The  woman  bowed  her  handsome  head,  and  cried  with  a 
stifled  voice:  "You  have  dragged  away  the  only  friend 
I  had  in  the  world.  Poor  old  Jimmy!  If  I  could  only  put 
my  arms  once  more  around  your  neck  and  say:  '  Jimmy, 
I  loved  you  at  the  last  more  than  I  ever  thought  to  love 
any  mortal  man.'"  And,  she  wrung  her  hands.  "He 
thought  only  of  me,  only  of  me,  poor  old  Jimmy." 

By  her  side,  stood  Hope  Devereux,  her  sweet  eyes  filled 
with  the  friendly  tears  of  innocence.  "  I  am  so  sorry  for 
you.  Can  I  do  anything?  You  must  be  helped.  This  is 
terrible! " 

"God  bless  you!  Do  you  know  what  you  are  saying? 
Wait!     Wait!     I'll  repay  you  some  day. " 

Jack  Otis  leaned  over  her,  "Make  it  as  easy  as  you  can. 
Say  nothing.     If  you  wish  anything  done,  count  on  me!" 

The  blunt  police  sergeant  was  moved.     He  walked   to 


431 

the  other  end  of  the  room,  for  Jim  Hooper's  last  thought 
of  the  woman  he  loved,  had  touched  the  oaken  fibers  of  the 
official's  heart.  "He  is  as  game  as  they  make 'em.  A 
right  good  one,  an  out  and  outer,  a  true  blue,  but  he's 
a  lifer,  if  he  lives  to  see  the  Judge,"  and,  the  burly 
policeman  sighed  "Transportation!"    . 

For,  the  stout  sergeant  well  knew  that  Strong's  San 
Francisco  data,  and  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman's  cowardly 
anonymous  letter  had  enabled  them  to  at  last  secretly  trap 
the  head  of  the  great  international  forgery  conspiracy. 
Even  at  this  very  moment  the  associates  of  Hooper,  drifting 
unwarned  into  "Compton's,"  and  the  lodging-house,  were 
being  one  by  one  apprehended.  Mr.  Tony  Morani  had 
well  earned  the  gold  paid  him  by  Mr.  Hooper's  traitor 
partner  in  crime.  And  the  coward  Wyman  had  done  his 
work  only  too  well ! 

"Mr.  Otis,  I  will  trust  to  you,"  whispered  Vinnie  of 
the  "cry  in'  eyes."  "You  are  talking  to  Vinnie  Hintou.  My 
name  has  long  been  notorious  on  the  Pacific  coast." 

Jack  glanced  quickly  at  Hope  Devereux.  Vinnie's  eyes 
followed  his. 

"That,  is  why  I  speak  plainly!  I  would  sooner  die  than 
hurt  a  hair  of  that  dear  girl's  head.  She  is  a  pearl,  if 
there  is  one  under  the  dark  waters  of  life.  You'll  make 
no  mistake,"  she  smiled  sadly.  "I  had  to  keep  my  eyes 
on  her.  I  feared  that  California  millionaire,  Wyman, 
this  girl's  apparent  patron.  He  was  the  only  man  whom 
I  thought  could  have  given  us  away.  But.  this  blow  has 
fallen  suddenly,  strangely.  He  is  out  in  California.  I 
only  watched  Miss  Lyndon  in  a  friendly  way,  to  be  able  to 
safely  change  our  location,  when  Wyman  came  out  here  to 
marry  the  millionaire  Buford's  girl." 

"See  here,"  said  Jack,  earnestly.  "I  do  believe  and 
trust  you.     I   am   not  here  to  sit   in   judgment  on  you. 


432  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

I  will  help  you  as  I  would  any  American  woman  alone  in 
distress  here.  Had  this  Wyman  any  reason  to  hate  you?  h 
he  asked,  seriously. 

< 'He  feared  me,  and— "  her  head  was  bowed.  "  Jimmy 
took  me  away  from  him!  " 

"  I  suppose  he  really  wanted  to  get  rid  of  you,  and  then 
denounced  you  by  telegraph  or  letter.  You  can't  tell  me 
Wyman's  wiles.     I  happen  to  know  he's  a  scoundrel." 

"  Now,  whatever  Osgood  has  been  mixed  up  in,  his 
last  words  to  you  were  to  keep  silent,  and,  he  has  tried  to 
shield  you.  Now,  we  will  both  stay  here  till  I  kn*w  you 
are  in  no  immediate  danger.  I'll  do  anything  I  can  for 
you,  and,  I  will  go  and  see  Osgood  in  prison.  They 
wouldn't  let  you,  but  I  will  give  him  any  message  or 
letter  that  you  give  to  me.  I  can  reach  Scotland  Yard, 
strangely,  by  a  happy  accident." 

"  God  bless  you,"  the  humbled  woman  cried.  "See 
here!  I  only  want  you  not  to  forget  to  tell  him  that  I'll 
make  myself  his  widow!  I've  got  money  hidden  away  of 
my  own,  no  matter  how  I  got  it.  It's  mine!  I'll  follow 
him,  and  I  know  that  money  will  soften  even  a  'lifer's' 
lot,  in  time."  Her  eyes  flashed,  and  her  carven  breast 
heaved. 

Jack  Otis  gazed  at  her,  in  a  frank  admiration.  He 
sighed,  ' '  you  have  too  good  a  heart  to  have  drifted  along 
in  such  troubled  waters." 

"Never  mind  the  past!  "  said  Vinnie.  "I'll  stand  by 
Jimmie  Hooper  to  the  last,  for  old  times'  sake,  and,  because 
he  showed  the  game  man,  under  fire.     Poor  old  Jimmie!  " 

Before  Otis  led  Hope  Devereux  away,  he  had  agreed 
upon  a  rendezvous  with  Vinnie  for  the  morning.  "You 
will  telegraph  to  me  for  counsel,  if  you,  too,  should  be 
arrested,"  said  Otis. 

"I   will  also  see  that  you   are  warned,  sir,"  said   the 


'  MES.    HAILEY    OSGOOD'S    GAEDEK  PARTY.  433 

sergeant,  ' c  if  you  will  give  me  your  personal  card.  This 
lady  shall  have  all  her  legal  rights,  besides."  The  good 
fellow  fancied  that  the  beauty  of  the  "half-cryiu'  eyes," 
was  the  victim  of  an  ex-convict's  matrimonial  wiles. 

When  the  startled  lovers  reached  Hope  Devereux's  house 
the  papers  were  already  announcing  the  arrest  of  the  noted 
Yankee  forger,  James  Walter  Hooper!  There  was  much 
particularity  but  no  word  was  written  to  the  international 
forgeries. 

"I  must  see  Strong  at  once,"  Otis  anxiously  whispered 
to  Hope  Devereux,  as  he  gave  her  the  evening  journals  at 
her  door.  "  Wait  for  us.  This  arrest  of  Hooper  is  im- 
portant. There  is  something  hidden  under  all  this  which 
deeply  affects  your  future  life.     It  is  a  strange  mystery!" 

It  seemed  almost  incredible,  that  such  currents  should 
waft  Hope  Devereux,  here  and  there,  on  their  troubled 
waters,  with  no  stain  on  her  past  life.  "What  is  the 
hidden  history  of  her  girlhood?"  mused  Jack  as  he 
hastened  away  to  Strong's  hotel.  But,  two  dear  shining 
eyes  repeated  their  silent  promise,  "  Wait  in  hope!  All 
will  be  well,"  and  so  he  abided,  strong  in  the  faith  builded 
by  a  love  now  past  all  bounds. 

Mrs.  Milly  Hammond  sat  astounded  in  her  rooms  when 
her  eyes  fell  upon  the  glaring  headlines  telling  of  Hooper's 
arrest.  "Shall  I  send  for  Strong?  No!"  she  quickly 
decided,  and  with  a  woman's  interest  for  a  lover,  who 
might  yet  be  a  sheet-anchor  in  days  of  storm,  she  penned 
a  cablegram  to  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman,  at  San  Francisco.  « '  I 
think  that  some  way  Strong  is  behind  this.  I  know  he 
hates  Wyman.  And  besides,  he  is  useless  to  me.  He  has 
no  money!  "  She  grimly  smiled,  and  then  wrote  the  fate- 
ful lines: 

"  Hooper,  the  fugitive  broker  arrested  to-day  here  for 
forgery.     A    woman   with   him.     Probably    Vinnie   H., 


434  MISS   DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

Waldo  Strong  here  on  secret  business.  Look  out.  What 
does  it  mean?"  Her  signature  "Milly,"  would  be  a  key- 
note to  arouse  him. 

It  did  so  arouse  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman,  who  was  raging 
next  morning  at  San  Francisco,  that  he  saw  at  last  the 
reason  of  the  filing  of  the  contest  at  Virginia  City  as  well 
as  the  bringing  forward  of  an  heiress  of  the  murdered 
Devereux. 

A  savage  dispatch  from  General  Hiram  Buford,  too, 
notified  him  that  the  bank  had  publicly  retired  from  all 
connection  with  the  ''Lone  Star." 

Wyman's  first  move  was  to  cable  to  General  Buford 
begging  him  to  return  to  San  Francisco.  "All  depends 
on  you.  Family  interests  saved  if  you  come.  Your  per- 
sonal interests  largely  increased.  Victory  easily  in  our 
power!  I  assume  all  expenses."  So  the  desperate  game- 
ster dispatched. 

The  evening  train  saw  Mr.  Tony  Morani  on  his  way 
back  to  London.  As  the  master  pressed  the  Frenchman's 
hand  in  parting  he  said,  "Remember,  not  a  single  word 
unless  Strong  has  visited  Hooper  in  prison.  If  Hooper 
will  only  keep  his  mouth  shut,  I  will  settle  up  everything 
here,  if  he  stands  square.  He  won't  be  tried  for  a  month 
or  so,  till  the  proofs  go  on  from  here.  I  will  watch  over 
all,  and  if  there's  nothing  else  against  him,  I  can  pull  him 
out.  As  for  Vinnie,  my  letter  will  fix  her  all  right,  and 
you  can  tell  her,  too,  to  spare  no  money." 

Mr.  Antoine  Morani  smiled,  as  his  master's  form  was  lost 
to  sight.  "  I  have  you  now  in  my  power,"  he  grinned  as 
he  thought  of  a  happy  reunion  with  his  bright-eyed  little 
Parisienne. 

But,  the  blackening  clouds  had  burst  in  the  great  storm 
upon  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman's  house  built  upon  the  sand. 
He  sprang,  revolver  in  hand,  from  his  bed,  in  alarm,  as  a 


MBS.    HAILEY   OSGOOD'S    GARDEN   PARTY.  435 

belated  dispatch  was  handed  to  him  that  very  night.  It 
was  from  his  great  legal  "battery"  in  Virginia  City.  The 
winds  were  pregnant  of  a  coming  day  of  doom. 

"Buford  is  my  only  hope  now,"  he  cried,  "  I  must  get 
him  to  come  here  and  square  the  judge,"  for  a  tempo- 
rary legal  injunction  had  been  granted,  which  tied  up  the 
whole  stock  and  the  priceless  mine,  until  the  Devereux 
Estate  hearing  and  the  contest  upon  the  patent  had  been 
decided. 

"It  is  this  scoundrel  Strong,  who  is  behind  this,"  raved 
Wyman.  Then,  with  a  sudden  sinking  of  the  heart,  he  saw 
the  hidden  source  of  the  deadly  enmity.  "  It's  that  damned 
white-faced  singing  girl,"  he  cried.  "Miss  Gladys  Lyn- 
don, she  has  been  my  ruin." 

He  had  aged  ten  years  in  appearance,  when  one  single 
gleam  of  hope  broke  through  the  clouds  in  General 
Buford's  answering  dispatch.  It  contained  a  few  words  of 
hope.      "Coming.     Sail  to-morrow.     Stand  firm." 

"Ah!"  sneered  Wyman,  "the  General  will  fight  like  a 
rat  for  his  own  pocket,  and  to  save  his  daughter's  name. 
That  marriage  alone,  will  save  me  now!"  and  the  nobleman 
of  Nature  then  expended  a  few  golden  twenties  in  words 
which  warmed  the  cable  in  their  perfunctory  tenderness. 
They  were  directly  addressed  to  Miss  Minnie  Buford,  and 
were  the  first  sincere  expressions  of  his  troubled  heart,  for 
the  maiden  was  now  his  chosen  Joan  of  Arc  to  drive  forth 
the  enemies  from  his  imperiled  kingdom  of  the  "Lone 
Star." 

"But,  where  in  the  devil  did  they  scrape  up  the  heiress 
of  Devereux?"  Wyman  sought  an  answer  to  this  question 
in  the  stars  for  many  weary  nights,  but,  the  unpitying  stars 
were  silent  as  they  swung  over  Devereux's  lonely  grave. 

Jack  Otis  found  the  Californian  lawyer  pacing  his 
rooms  in  excitement. 


436  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

" Just  the  man  I  wanted,"  cried  Strong.  I  am  going  to 
see  Hooper  at  Newgate,  to-morrow,  as  I  must  get  away  to 
California  at  once  to  protect  the  bank's  interests,  and  crip- 
ple Wyman.  I  do  not  wish  him  to  have  a  chance  to  get 
outside  of  American  jurisdiction.     Tell  me  all!  " 

When  the  Bostonian  had  described  the  events  of  the 
garden  party,  Strong  said: 

"  Now  I  have  all  my  points!  A  profound  quiet  is  be- 
ing kept  for  a  week  about  the  international  forgeries. 
The  police  wish  to  apprehend  the  scattered  members  of  the 
band  of  forgers  on  the  Continent  who  have  aided  in  these 
great  London  frauds.  Hooper  only  thinks  that  he  has  the 
Californian  matters  before  him.  He  may  make  a  clean 
breast  to  me!  An  American  prison  is  a  paradise  compared 
to  English  transportation.  Now,  if  the  authorities  here 
cripple  and  scatter  the  smartest  band  of  swindlers  in 
Europe,  they  will  give  us  Hooper.  I  wish  to  obtain  his 
confidence  and  get  a  clean  breast  as  to  the  Wyman  mat- 
ter. His  deposition  before  arraignment,  is  still  admissible 
in  all  our  courts." 

"I  must  see  him  with  you,"  slowly  said  Otis.  "  That 
woman  loves  him  madly,  and  she  wishes  me  to  bear  him  a 
message.     Will  you  see  her?  " 

"No,"  said  the  lawyer,  after  cogitation.  "  Vinnie  Hin- 
ton  might  warn  Wyman.  She  will  be  watched,  they  tell 
me,  but  not  arrested.  You  can  tell  her  she  may  as  well 
leave  England.  She  can  do  nothing  for  Hooper.  When 
do  you  see  her?  " 

"To-morrow,  as  early  as  I  can  reach  Chiswick,"  said 
Otis,  "and  I  must  see  Hooper  to-morrow."  He  thought 
of  the  lonely  woman  in  the  villa,  fighting  against  fate  to 
soften  her  lover's  hard  future  life. 

"I  don't  see  how  it  can  be  done,"  regretfully  replied 
Strong.    "Now,  if  you  were  only  a  lawyer!" 


437 

Jack  Otis  smiled.  "I  was  an  humble  light  of  Cam- 
bridge Law  School,  and  I  have  here  both  the  sheepskins 
of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Massachusetts,  and  of  the  highest 
court  of  the  United  States!  My  mother's  estate  and  my 
own  business  have  kept  me  out  of  public  practice.  I  have 
just  money  enough  to  rob  me  of  the  ambition  to  scrape  up 
dollars." 

"  So,  architecture  is  then  only  a  fad?  "  smiled  Strong. 

"  One  of  my  fads,"  Jack  replied.  "  I  intended  to  write 
a  book  on  that  very  subject.  Most  people  now  seem  to 
feel  the  internal  summons  to  write — to  write  something 
or  another.  There  is  a  vague  expectation  that  we  men  of 
University  training  will  do  something.  Politics  is  a  dirty 
pool!  We  have  no  American  civil  or  foreign  device  of 
any  continuity.  I  never  liked  the  army  or  navy,  as  a  mere 
profession  of  elegant  leisure.  The  church  or  medicine 
never  tempted  me.  I  am  neither  fit  to  cure  souls  nor  bodies! 
I  admire  the  beautiful  theory  of  the  law.  The  practice 
of  the  profession  in  America  is  too  often  only  a  matching 
of  questionable  expedients.  So,  the  book,  the  book,  has 
loomed  up,  but  there  is  absolutely  no  protection  for  an  in- 
dignant public  against  the  book  craze,  so,  I  threatened  to 
write  a  book." 

"  Unfortunately,  you  are  right,"  dryly  said  Strong. 
"Now,  shake  off  this  drowsy  sloth,  death's  counterfeit. 
You  will  come  to  me  with  your  sheepskins.  Their  exhi- 
bition will  qualify  you.  Technically,  I'll  ask  Hooper  to 
send  for  you.  You  can  then  have  a  half  hour  with  him, 
and  thus  fulfill  your  generous  purpose.  Get  back  to  the 
warden's  office  at  Newgate  as  soon  as  you  can." 

It  was  a  happy  thought  which  caused  Otis  to  send  his 
man  at  once  to  Chiswick,  with  a  warning  letter  to  Mrs. 
Hailey  Osgood. 

"My  man   is  faithful.       He  will  stay   a    day    or     go 


438  MISS   DEVEREUX   OE   THE   MARIQUITA. 

with  you.  You  can  trust  him  in  anything,"  Otis  wrote, 
for  Strong  had  told  him  of  the  possible  vital  importance  of 
Hooper's  confession  to  the  interests  of  Miss  Hope  Dev- 
ereux. 

"  You  can  get  some  valuable  material  for  your  book  in 
considering  the  substantial  construction  of  Newgate," 
laughed  Strong,  "but  I  presume  you  will  now  abandon 
architecture,  for  a  time  at  least." 

The  hands  of  the  two  men  met  in  a  kindly  grasp  as  they 
said  "  Good-night. "  It  was  years  before  Otis  understood 
the  secret  of  the  manly  self-surrender  of  the  grave-faced 
counselor. 

Flashing  eyed,  tearless  and  coldly  proud,  Mrs.  Hailey 
Osgood  had  dismissed  all  her  retinue,  save  her  devoted 
maid  and  one  man.  On  the  next  morning,  the  house  was 
being  dismantled  and  the  sound  of  workmen  packing  and 
casing  the  splendors  of  her  home  was  heard,  as  Jack  Otis 
rosy  and  alert,  received  her  last  instructions. 

"I'll  keep  your  man  with  me,"  she  said.  "Now,  if  you 
will  only  give  poor  Jimmy  this  letter.  If  you  will  only  tell 
him,  that  if  it's  ten  years  and  all  around  the  world,  in  his 
saddest  lonely  hours  to  remember  I  am  as  near  him  as 
money  and  love  can  bring  me!  I  will  be  there,  working, 
watching  and  waiting,  that  is  if  I  am  alive.  I'll  find  my 
way  to  him,  past  all  those  bolts  and  bars! " 

"I  will  come  back  to  you  the  instant  I  am  free,"  cried 
Jack  Otis,  with  a  gleam  of  admiration  at  the  dauntless 
adventuress.  "Wasted  wine  of  life,"  he  mused  as  he 
drove  to  the  river  steamer.  "  What  a  woman  if  she  had 
only  gone  the  right  way!"  And,  he  never  paused  to  ask 
himself  if  the  lonely  pariah  of  loveliness  had  ever  been  left 
free  to  choose  the  right  path!  Whether  man's  cold 
brutality  had  not  dragged  her  down,  or  whether  she  was 
only  one  of  those  marvels  of  nature's  handiwork,  which  are 


MES.    HAILET    OSGOOD'S    GAKDBIT    PARTY.  439 

doomed  to  be  the  collective  property  of  all  men  of  means 
and  vicious  leisure. 

Jack  Otis  started  as  the  gloomy  doors  of  the  Newgate 
corrider  clanged  behind  him. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock,  and  Strong  had  hastily  whispered, 
"He  knows  now,  who  Hope  Devereux  is!  Make  notes  of 
what  he  voluntarily  tells  you  as  to  the  *  Lone  Star '  mine. 
He  knows  nothing  as  yet,  of  the  real  cause  of  his  arrest." 

Jack  Otis  had  a  list  of  a  dozen  prominent  London 
barristers,  solicitors  and  attorneys.  His  precaution  was 
useless,  for  when  James  Walter  Hooper  rose  from  his 
coarse  truckle  bed  within  a  six  by  ten  stone  cell  where 
one  window  only  lit  up  a  Bible  and  a  copy  of  the  prison 
regulations,  he  said  hoarsely  as  he  grasped  Otis'  hands, 
"You  come  to  me  from  her.  Moments  are  now  precious. 
You  only  have  half  an  hour.  Did  you  bring  your  note- 
book? 

Jack  produced  writing  materials  and  then  handed  him 
the  letter,  which  the  forger  read  greedily.  The  Bos- 
tonian  studied  him  as  he  stood  in  a  corner,  veiled  from  the 
wicket  opening.  Great  rings  encircled  the  criminal's  eyes, 
in  which,  there  now  gleamed  all  the  desperation  of  a  hungry 
wolf. 

He  handed  the  letter  back.  In  the  presence  of  the 
American,  he  had  covered  it  with  kisses.  "Take  it  back 
to  her.  They  would  soon  search  me  and  take  it  away 
from  me.  But,  it  is  safe  in  my  soul.  God  bless  her,  my 
poor  Vinnie!  Tell  her  my  heart,  my  life,  my  very  soul  went 
out  in  these  kisses  where  her  hand  has  rested.  That's 
all!" 

"Now  write!  I  will  dictate."  And,  to  Jack  Otis'  as- 
tonishment, Hooper  named  an  attorney  of  national  repu- 
tation, and  gave  some  simple  directions  as  to  his  house 
affairs,  and  as  to  her  future  course.     "I  have  powerful 


440  MISS    DEVERETTX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

friends,"  he  whispered.  "Now  a  single  leaf  of  your 
note-book."  In  ten  minutes  he  gave  to  the  wondering 
Yankee  a  missive  covered  with  strange  figures  and  charac- 
ters, unknown  to  ordinary  correspondence.  "Now!  To 
a  man  who  is  dead  to  the  world,  you  can  render  the  last 
service  due  to  the  dead— the  living  dead,"  sadly  said  the 
forger.  He  leaned  over  to  the  Bostonian.  "Get  back  to 
her  the  very  first  instant  you  can!  Our  salvation  depends 
on  it.  Tell  her  to  do  what  I  have  written,  and  instantly 
get  out  of  London,  over  the  Channel  this' very  night.  It 
may  soon  be  too  late.  Then  I  will  be  able  to  sleep.  I 
only  care  for  her  now.  Then  I  can  face  the  future!  But, 
let  her  foot  not  linger  a  single  moment.  Leave  all  the 
house  trash,  tell  her,  with  any  honest  agent.  It's  all 
bought  in  her  own  name,  her  very  own.  For  God's  sake, 
go!  And,  to  my  dying  day  I'll  love  your  brave  name! 
I'll  cherish  your  manly  face.     Will  you  do  this  for  me?  " 

Otis  gazed  at  this  villain  transfigured  by  love.  "You 
love  her?  "  he  murmured. 

"To  the  death,  in  life  and  death,  in  hell  itself!  Tell 
her  so!     Tell  her  it  was  my  last  spoken  word." 

As  Otis  grasped  his  hands  and  murmured,  "I  am  sorry 
for  you,"  Hooper  whispered: 

' '  Tell  Hope  Devereux  that  I  have  given  Strong  the  whole 
history  of  the  false  deed.  He  will  have  my  legal  deposi- 
tion before  you  get  back  to  Chiswick,  and  tell  her  also,  to 
remember  that  I  was  poor  and  desperate.  I  did  not  know 
that  I  was  robbing  a  helpless,  orphaned  child;  but  Wyman, 
the  scoundrel  traitor,  did,  and  thought  to  screen  himself 
behind  me.  The  man  was  really  dead  when  I  signed  the 
name.  There  was  then  no  such  man,  but  the  devil,  Wyman, 
uttered  the  deed,  and  traded  on  the  dead  man's  name. 
He  recorded  it,  and  for  him,  there  is  a  heavier  punish- 
ment even  than   for  me.     As  for  the   other  deeds  of  my 


MRS.  HAILET  OSGOOD'S  GARDEN  PARTY.      441 

past  life,  that  history  of  folly  and  crime  I  will  have  to 
answer  for,  alone." 

< «  Otis,"  said  Hooper,  <  «  tell  Miss  Devereux  that  a  convict's 
contrite  blessing  will  not  harm  her.  Make  her  your  wife. 
For  God's  sake,  remember  always  that  she  is  a  loving 
woman,  life  and  passion  throbbing  in  her  veins;  not  a 
mere  machine,  to  answer  to  your  touch.  Give  her  of  your 
best.  Be  true  to  her,  and  you'll  have  the  best  that  lies 
in  her  heart  and  soul.  I'll  trust  a  woman  who  loves  me; 
trust  her  to  the  death,  without  her  oath  or  promise,  far- 
ther than  any  one  bound  down  by  cold  orders!  Look  at 
Vinnie,  true  in  trouble!  Tell  her  I  trust  her  to  the  very 
death;  that  I  know,  love  will  find  the  way!  ? 

Jack  Otis  was  misty-eyed  as  he  wandered  away  down 
the  narrow,  dark  corridor  where  rude  crosses,  scratched 
with  a  nail  on  the  whitewashed  wall,  told  of  the  men  lying 
there  under  the  cold  flagstones,  whose  last  glance  on  high 
had  seen  the  black  flag  waving  over  the  gloomy  stone 
tower  of  Newgate,  and  on  whose  faces,  Mr.  Calcraft's  eyes 
had  rested  last  in  perfect  professional  coolness,  as  he 
wafted  them  out  to  the  dark  unknown,  to  lie  later  in  the 
burial  corridor. 

"  I'm  going  to  Chiswick,"  gasped  Jack  Otis,  as  he  led 
Strong  out  from  under  the  shadow  of  the  chilling  New- 
gate walls.  "  He  has  frankly  owned  up  all  to  me,  all  about 
the  Truckee  forgery." 

"See  here!"  said  Strong,  "you  must  get  back  then  to 
my  rooms  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  also  have  Miss  Dev- 
ereux surely  await  us  to-night.  I  must  leave  to-morrow 
morning,  for  the  slyboots,  Mrs.  Hammond,  left  suddenly 
to-day  for  America.  If  I  mistake  not, '  she  may  try  to 
warn  and  help  Wyman.  That  woman  is  a  far  different 
being  from  what  her  social  sign-post  holds  out.  " 

"By  heavens!"  said  Strong  looking  at  his  time-tables, 


442  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF   THE    MAEIQXJITA. 

"if  I  take  the  midnight  train  at  Euston  Square,  I  can  get 
on  the  very  same  boat  with  her." 

"The  British  public  will  have  to  be  disappointed  then, 
Strong,"  said  Jack,  "for,  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon  was  to 
sing  as  usual  to-night.     It  is  the  regular  concert  day." 

"It will  only  teach  them  to  bear  it  all  the  better,  in 
future,"  good-humoredly  said  the  lawyer,  as  he  turned 
back  to  get  the  deposition  of  Hooper  duly  executed  on  the 
records  before  the  felon  taint  attached  to  him,  for 
the  whole  miserabletruth  was  now  laid  bare,  and  Frederick 
Wyman  was  at  last,  at  the  mercy  of  his  relentless  foe! 

The  steamer  "  Broad  Arrow  "  was  not  quick  enough  for 
Jack  Otis.  He  chafed  vainly  as  the  little  boat  seemed  to 
dally  at  every  landing,  from  Blackfriars  along  to  Chis- 
wick,  but,  he  was  not  long  delayed  at  tcfce  Hailey  Osgood 
villa.  The  house  was  closed,  and  his  own  man  opened 
the  door.     He  had  kept  his  horses  in  waiting. 

Bj  a  presentiment  of  urgent  affairs,  Mrs.  Hailey  Osgood 
was  ready  for  instant  action.  Without  a  word,  Otis  drew 
her  into  a  little  reception  room  and  then  closed  the  door. 
She  was  dressed  for  travel,  and  her  alert  maid,  similarly 
accoutred,  sat  in  the  hall  with  a  heavy  traveling  case, 
bearing  ear-marks  of  Chubb' s  hideous  ingenuity. 

"Will  you  act  for  me  in  the  proper  closing  up  of 
this  house?  I  go  on  to  Ostend  to-night,"  cried  Vinnie 
Hinton,  her  cheeks  very  pale.  Her  hands  trembled  as 
she  thrust  the  two  letters  back  in  her  bosom.  "Come! 
We  can  talk  on  the  way,"  for,  Jack  had  answered  with  a 
nod. 

Without  turning  her  head,  Mrs.  Hailey  Osgood  walked 
out  of  the  house  where  her  purest  social  triumphs  had  so 
disarmed  her,  and  where  she  had  sadly  found  out  that  "  the 
dazzling  luck  was  too  good  to  last."  "I'll  send  my  own 
maid   back  with  tidings,  from   Dover,"  the    keen-witted 


MRS.     HAILEY    OSGOOD'S    GARDEN    PARTY.  448 

woman  said.  "Let  her  attend  then  to  all.  She  is 
honest.  Give  me  your  own  movements  for  the  evening, 
and  remember  that  I  may  have  to  telegraph  to  you  or  Miss 
Devereux.  I  will  have  something  of  importance  also  to  com- 
municate to  her."  The  horses  were  now  racing  swiftly 
toward  the  landing. 

As  the  steamer  sped  down  the  river,  Vinnie  Hinton 
said:  "  You  had  better  leave  me  at  Westminster.  I  go 
on  farther."  She  spoke  through  the  double  folds  of  an 
ash  of  rose  veil,  which  hid  the  "half  cryin'  eyes"  from  the 
curious.  "Ask  Miss  Devereux  to  wait  at  home  until  I 
come,  at  her  own  house.  I  will  surprise  her.  It  is  im- 
perative! " 

Otis  bowed  his  head  and  then,  wondered  where  the 
fugitive  woman  had  learned  of  Gladys  Lyndon's  secret. 
Ah!  the  cipher  letter  of  her  imprisoned  lover.  So  he 
promised  to  obey,  and  whispered,  "I  will  be  there  also, 
so,  I  shall  surely  see  you  agaiu." 

There  was  a  grateful  flash  of  her  bright  brave  eyes 
through  the  veil  as  the  boat  clove  into  the  floating  brown 
shadows  of  the  Parliament  Houses.  "  If  I  only  dared  to,  I 
would  say  'God  bless  you  both,'  but  I  dare  not."  Her 
tears  were  falling.  Vinnie  Hinton  regretfully  saw  the  past 
for  a  moment  as  when  she  was  unstained. 

"One  last  favor.  Will  you  keep  these  till  I  come? 
my  jewels,"  she  sobbed  in  a  voice  of  mingled  shame  and 
sorrow.  And  so,  she  was  whirled  away  with  her  throb- 
bing burdens  of  head  and  heart,  of  vanished  hopes,  of 
present  fears,  of  saddest  memories. 

The  Bostonian  stood  on  the  landing,  his  heart  strangely 
moved  as  the  boat  sped  down  the  river.  She  was  borne 
away  alone  out  on  the  troubled  waters  of  a  new  life  of 
stormy  adventure.  In  some  strange  vague  way,  he  felt 
the  pity  that  thrills  when  a  beautiful  flower  lies  trodden 


444  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

down  in  the  mire  under  the  hurrying  feet  of  the  passing 
crowd.  Borne  down,  borne  far  away  from  the  harbor 
light,  out  into  the  stormy  sea  of  passion,  alone,  out  on 
life's  dark  ocean  once  more,  and  driving  along,  whither? 

He  had  not  answered  that  question  when  he  entered 
gentle  Hope  Devereux's  home  with  the  sin  won  jewels 
of  the  vanished  Phryne  still  in  his  keeping. 

The  narration  of  the  day's  doings  was  at  last  all  over,  and 
Hope  Devereux,  with  shaded  eyes,  had  listened  to  Jack 
Otis,  who  was  the  bearer  of  the  grave  tidings  sent  by  Waldo 
Strong.  The  girl' s  face  was  strangely  pale.  She  was  robed 
to-day  in  white,  and  the  only  fleck  of  color  she  showed,  was 
a  bright  knot  of  roses  on  her  moulded  breast,  culled  from 
the  morning  offering  of  the  "architectural  student."  The 
tinge  of  a  faint  color  on  her  pale  cheeks  deepened,  as  she 
fixed  her  earnest  eyes  on  the  tell-tale  face  of  her  lover. 
There  was  a  strange  brooding  fondness  in  her  glance,  as 
if  a  past  wrong  was  to  be  atoned!  In  the  room  no 
sound  was  heard  save  the  hollow  ticking  of  a  hidden 
clock.     Something  seemed  to  press  upon  their  hearts! 

"It  is  beyond  all  doubt,  then,  that  this  valuable 
property  will  come  down  to  me  from  my  dear  parents, 
the  fruit  of  my  father's  wasted  years  of  privation,  the 
reward  of  my  mother's  patient  suffering?  That  this  man 
has  no  shadow  of  an  honest  claim  to  my  strange  birth- 
right?"     Her  voice  trembled,  in  its  wistful  eagerness. 

"It  seems  to  be  so,  beyond  any  possibility  of  failure," 
gravely  replied  her  watching  lover.  ' '  Mr.  Strong  tells  me 
also  that  the  San  Francisco  bank  has  telegraphed  back 
their  own  lawyers'  opinion,  that  the  title  is  absolutely 
vested  now  in  you,  to  three-quarters  of  a  property  which  is 
worth  to-day,  several  millions.  It  seems  like  a  dream,  a 
fairy  tale,  but  it  is,  thank  God,  true,  and,  this  Wyman 
also  stands  hugely  in  your  debt,  for  back  unpaid  profits," 


MRS.     HAILEY    OSGOOD  S    GARDEN    PARTY.  445 

The  girl  shuddered.  "  I  care  not  for  him!  I  only  pray 
God  never  to  see  him  again.  Listen,"  and  a  wondrous 
sweet  smile  then  stole  over  her  face,  as  her  dreaming  eyes 
were  downcast.  "I  can  now,  tell  you  the  innocent  secret 
of  my  girlhood." 

"The  death  of  my  dear  faithful  mother,  following  the 
disappearance  of  my  murdered  father,  left  me  to  the  kind 
friendship  alone  of  poor  old  manager  McCabe,  who  was 
attached  to  a  small  San  Francisco  theater.  He  placed  me 
in  the  Visitation  convent.  His  sudden  death  made  me  there, 
simply  a  charity  scholar,  for,  his  wife,  who  lives  yet,  thank 
God,  to  share  my  good  fortune,  was  too  poor  to  help  me,  a 
defenseless  child,  further."  There  were  bright  tears  of 
gratitude  falling  now  from  her  shaded  eyes.  They  fell 
upon  Mr.  Jack  Otis'  bronzed  palms,  for,  he  was  kneeling  now 
before  her,  and,  he  was  kissing  the  little  white  hands  which 
lay  so  confidingly  in  his  own. 

The  story  of  her  helpless  childhood,  the  orphan's  blank, 
unloved  girlhood,  was  told  in  her  loving,  hesitating  words. 
"God  bless  the  dear  sisters!  It  was  the  only  return  I 
could  make  them  when  I  left  the  shelter  of  the  dear  old 
convent  to  promise  them  not  to  use  my  own  name,  in  a 
public  life,  for,  I  dreamed  of  a  future  success  upon  the 
boards.  I  owed  my  humble  story  to  no  one.  Mrs. 
McCabe  has  always  known  my  every  movement.  The  dear 
Sisters,  too.  But,  they  are  always  mute,  the  world  drifts 
by  them  unheeded." 

Jack  Otis'  breast  was  heaving  in  a  tempest  of  wild 
emotions. 

"When  I  received  Mrs.  Hammond's  seemingly  generous 
offer  of  aid  to  come  abroad,  I  eagerly  embraced  it.  The 
path  only  seemed  to  lead  out  to  fame,  to  honor,  to  action, 
and,  to  an  honestly  earned  fortune.  It  was  only  in  Paris 
— in  Paris — "  the  sobbing  girl  faltered,  "  that  I  knew  at 


446  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

last  her  apparent  kindness,  was  only  the  mask  of  another's 
basest  motives.  I  could  not  tell  youthen!  I  had  no  right 
to  appeal  to  you.  Every  woman  has  to  make  that  fight 
alone!  But  here,  I  am  under  my  own  little  roof.  You 
know  my  daily  life,  and  you  alone,  have  the  right  to  know 
that  I  would  not  tell  the  history  of  my  childhood's  sorrows 
to  those  who  might  not  care  to  know.  I  could  not  tell 
them  how  a  mother  died  in  a  hospital  alone,  broken  down 
in  grief,  withering  slowly  in  that  horrible  suspense,  the 
living  death  of  my  father's  strange  vanishing,  and  bowed 
down  with  struggling  to  keep  her  little  one  from  eating  the 
bitter  bread  of  charity. " 

Hope  Devereux's  fair  head  was  bent  in  sorrow.  The 
silence  of  that  room  was  unbroken,  and  yet,  to  Otis  it 
seemed  that  some  heavenly  spirit  of  peace  hovered  in  love 
near  them,  for  on  his  breast,  "  her  head  like  some  over- 
wearied dove,  came  fluttering  down  to  rest." 

She  lifted  her  lovely  face  to  gaze  in  his  eyes,  and 
whispered,  "That  is  my  poor  little  life  history,  Jack! 
You  know  the  rest  !  " 

His  strong  arms  were  around  her  as  he  said,  "You 
knew  my  own  dearest  one  I  loved  you  madly  all  the  while! 
That  I  only  waited  but  the  moment  when  it  was  fair  to 
speak  to  you,  when  your  success  would  have  placed  you 
as  far  above  me  as  you  are  now;  when  you  could  stoop 
to  conquer,  for,  in  all  those  days,  Gladys,  you  were  my 
Hope."     He  smiled. 

"I  wanted  to  have  something  more  than  myself  to  give 
you!  I  wished  to  bring  you  a  name,  one  worthy  to  mate 
with  your  own,"  the  happiest  woman  in  London  smiled, 
looking  up,  in  his  arms. 

"My  own  darling,"  cried  Jack,  "I  will  take  away  both 
of  your  names  and  give  you  mine  for  life,  and,  my  love  to' 
eternity."     The  fair  head  was  lifted  from  his  breast. 


MRS.  HAILEY  OSGOOD'S  GARDEN  PARTY.      447 

"I  must  say  something  to  you,  sir,"  she  said,  with  a 
last  flash  of  returning  womanly  spirit.  "I  would  have 
spoken  to  you  before,  but,  I  did  not  wish  Mr.  Strong  to 
know  of  it.  He  told  me  I  could  have  any  money  I  wished! 
I  wrote  to  the  bank  in  Paris  to  pay  my  debt  of  two 
thousand  dollars,  for  I  had  already  one  thousand  of  it 
saved  up.     Do  you  know  what  they  wrote  me  back,  sir?" 

Jack  Otis' face  was  crimson  as  he  answered  "No," — 
another  whopper! 

Rosy  fingers  extracted  a  little  billet  from  her  bosom. 
"Read  that!  "  triumphantly  said  the  singer,  as  her  spark- 
ling eyes  met  his  in  a  tender,  witching,  gleam. 

The  formal  words  were  definite  enough.  "In  reply  to 
yours,  we  beg  leave  to  say  that  your  agent,  Mr.  John 
Wayne  Otis,  paid  us  on  his  first  and  only  visit,  the  whole 
sum  of  your  indebtedness  in  cash,  taking  a  receipt  in  your 
name.  You,  therefore,  are  not  in  our  debt!  "  There  was 
a  brooding  silence,  but,  he  could  feel  her  gentle  heart  beat 
against  his  own. 

"When  will  you  marry  me?"  said  Jack  Otis,  now  facing 
the  ordeal  of  his  life,  with  the  very  utmost  unconcern. 

Miss  Hope  Devereux  deliberately  replaced  the  little  doc- 
ument in  its  mysterious  hiding  place.  "Not  until  I  have 
paid  you  back  that  two  thousand  dollars,"  she  softly  said, 
as  her  dreaming  eyes  met  her  lover's.  "Then,  I  will  know 
and  feel  that  I  am  indeed  'Miss  Devereux  of  the  Mari- 
quita.'" 

And  the  gentleman  from  Boston  was  fain  to  be  content 
with  the  loving  woman's  gentle  little  subterfuge,  for,  as  yet, 
the  fortune  buried  far  away  under  the  stony  bosom  of 
Mount  Davidson  seemed  to  her  to  be  only  fairy  gold! 

In  the  shadows  of  the  evening,  a  carriage  drove  up  to 
Miss  Gladys  Lyndon's  door.  The  whisper  of  the  maid  in 
the  hall   brought   Otis  out  to  the  instant  reception  of  the 


448  MISS    DEYEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

anxiously  expected  visitor.  In  the  parlor,  Vinnie  Hinton 
threw  aside  her  shrouding  veils  and  showed  to  them 
a  face  as  pale  as  marble,  with  two  eyes  glowing  there,  as 
coals  of  steady  blown  fire. 

"I  have  but  a  few  moments!  I  am  watched,  followed. 
Miss  Devereux,"  cried  the  queen  of  light  loves,  "here  is  a 
packet  of  invaluable  papers.  They  are  yours  alone!  My 
gift  in  contrite  sorrow.  They  are  the  papers  which  were 
taken  from  your  father's  dead  body,  for,  Jim  Hooper 
learned  from  Andy  Bowen  that  he  had  given  all  Steven 
Berard's  papers  to  this  mean  scoundrel,  Wyman.  Hooper 
wanted  an  invincible  hold  on  Wyman.  I  stole  them  from 
Wyman  myself,  one  time  when  he  had  drank  too  much 
wine!  I  gave  them  to  Jimmy.  Wyman  raged.  He 
feared  to  advertise  for  them.  He  never  suspected  me, 
but,  Jimmy  was  always  afraid  of  him." 

"You  can  thank  only  Mr.  Otis  for  them.  His  manly 
kindness  to  Hooper  is  the  cause  of  this  last  visit.  His 
bringing  me  Hooper's  message  has  saved  all  there  is  left 
in  life  for  me.  I  leave  England  forever  to-night!  I  shall 
never  see  you  again,  but,  I  shall  hear  of  you.  I  have 
sacredly  promised  myself  to  know  in  future  years  how 
happy  you  are,  as  the  wife  of  a  man  who  so  nobly  stooped 
to  help  the  friendless. " 

She  took  the  girl's  hands  in  hers  and  then  kissed  them 
dumbly.  A  little  packet  was  pressed  in  the  rosy  palm  of 
the  astonished  girl.  And  then,  she  vanished  as  a  flitting 
shade  of  the  night! 

When  Jack  Otis  returned  from  the  sidewalk*  the  clang 
of  a  carriage  door  and  the  rattle  of  wheels  told  that  the 
desperate  woman  was  already  on  her  way  to  where  free- 
dom lay  in  Belgium,  far  beyond  the  tossing  Channel  foam. 

Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis  was  debating  in  his  mind  the 
legal  morality  of  his  actions  of  the  day,  as  he  returned  with 


MRS.  HAILEY  OSGOOD'S  GARDEN  PARTY.      449 

clouded  eyes,  for  he  locked  up  one  secret  of  a  life  in  his 
breast.  Vinnie  Hinton  had  whispered  as  he  gave  back  to 
her  the  case  of  jewels:  "Everything  is  safe!  By  to-morrow, 
I  will  be  out  of  England,  and  the  price  of  his  future  liberty 
too,  is  far  beyond  the  control  of  the  police." 

"  Promise  me!  "  Jack  had  whispered,  "you  are  too  good 
for  the  fate  before  you.  Hooper  has  a  wonderful  real 
ability,  if  he  ever  escapes — " 

"I  will  lead  a  new  life,  so  help  me  God,"  the  sobbing 
woman  cried,  "  for,  the  cup  of  sin  is  bitter  enough.  I 
have  sworn  to  die  or  free  him,  and,  I  will! " 

Jack  Otis  thought  in  amazement  of  the  last  flash  of  her 
burning  eyes,  when  six  months  later,  far  away,  he  learned 
that  Convict  Hooper,  "a  lifer," had,  very  strangely,  fallen 
overboard  in  the  harbor  of  Ceylon,  and  there  drowned, 
or  else  his  body  was  devoured  probably  by  sharks,  for,  his 
remains  were  not  recovered.    * 

It  was  on  the  shaded  lawns  of  his  old  home  by  the 
Charles  in  future  happy  days  that  a  scrawl,  "  All  right 
now.  We  have  not  forgotten  your  advice!  "  reached  him. 
It  had  been  mailed  at  Athens,  under  a  double  cover.  The 
signature  of  "  Mrs.  Hailey  Osgood,"  recalled  to  him  that 
the  great  continental  band  of  bank  swindlers  had  been 
later  proved  to  have  had  extensive  and  influential  cor- 
respondents in  all  parts  of  the  financial  world. 

"By  Heavens!  She  is  a  brave  one,  is  Vinnie!  She 
bought  her  way  to  him  and  then,  unlocked  his  fetters 
with  a  golden  key,"  he  correctly  divined. 

Miss  Hope  Devereux  was  standing  waiting  in  her  draw- 
ing room  as  her  lover  entered  it  and  a  strange  wonder 
filled  her  eyes.  In  her  hands  the  little  packet  of  the  de- 
parting fugitive  lay  opened.  A  matchless  ruby  ring  whose 
pigeon  blood  flush  filled  the  whole  room  with  its  waves  of 
warm  red  light,  lay  there.     Twisted  around  it,  was  a  little 


450  MISS    DEVEEEUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

bit  of  parchment.  The  words,  too,  were  strange,  "It  be- 
longed to  a  great  Empress  once!  Don't  fear  to  take  it! 
I  bought  it  myself  with  honest  money,  the  fruit  of  the  one 
fortunate  investment  I  ever  made  in  slocks."  It  was  the 
thank  offering  of  the  vanished  beauty  with  the  "half  cry- 
in'  eyes!" 

It  was  ten  o'clock  that  night,  wThen  Counselor  Waldo 
Strong  bade  adieu  to  his  beautiful  client.  ' '  There  is  noth- 
ing more  for  you  to  do  now,  Miss  Hope,"  he  said,  "  but 
to  await  my  safe  arrival  in  Virginia  City.  Of  course, 
Wyman  will  soon  know  that  Hooper  has  /peached  '  in  full 
as  regarded  the  false  deed  to  the  'Mariquita.'  This  Hooper 
is  a  singular  fellow,  and  evidently  has  always  feared  some 
sudden  betrayal.  He  has  called  in  one  of  the  greatest  Eng- 
lish criminal  lawyers,  and  one  of  their  clerks  was  present 
when  Hooper's  voluntary  deposition  was  taken  as  to  the 
Truckee  affair.  The  consent  of  his  attorney  and  the  Crown, 
gives  us  all  the  more  credit,  in  using  that  evidence.  I  fancy 
that  Hooper  has  hoarded  away  in  some  safe  retreat  on  the 
continent,  his  share  of  the  profits  of  these  great  bank 
forgeries.  If  I  mistake  not,  Jim  the  Penman  was  the  only 
head  man  within  the  danger  line  here,  and  the  powerful 
gang  of  intelligent  European  criminals  interested  will  help 
him  out,  if  they  can.  He  told  me  to  say  to  you,  that  every- 
thing was  all  right.  You  are  to  see  his  lawyer  and  tell  him 
any  news  about  Vinnie  that  you  wish  to  reach  Hooper.  It 
leaves  you  now,  free  to  watch  over  Miss  Devereux.  I  have 
all  the  papers,  and  all  the  authority  I  need.  My  only  fear 
is  that  Wyman  may  discover  your  identity.  He  is  or  will 
be  soon,  desperate!  I  do  not  wish  you  to  come  on  to  Vir- 
ginia City  and  be  exposed  there,  to  his  possible  schemes, 
without  adequate  protection." 

Strong's  face   was  twitching  in    some  hidden  storm  of 
feelings.    "  Your  safest  course  is  just  now,  to  remain  here 


MRS.    HAILBY    OSGOOD'S    GARDEN    PARTY.  451 

under  your  stage  name  and  to  continue  your  engagement! 
I  intend  to  bring  criminal  proceedings  at  once,  against 
Frederick  Wyman.  I  will  cable  to  you  of  his  arrest.  In 
the  meanwhile,  Mr.  Otis  must  be  responsible  for  your  daily 
safety  here.  I  forgot  to  say  that  I  will  cable  to  you  de- 
cisive news  from  New  York,  as  I  have  instructed  my  asso- 
ciate to  report  to  me  by  wire  there.  There  is  nothing  else. 
I  will  have  five  days  leeway,  before  the  cases  are  called, 
unless,  some  steamer  accident  should  delay  me." 

"Once  that  he  is  safely  under  arrest,  then,  you  must 
come  West  at  once.  I  forgot  to  say  that  if  you  wish  any 
money,  Miss  Devereux,  the  Anglo-Californian  bank  here 
will  honor  your  check  to  any  reasonable  amount.  Don't  be 
afraid  to  call  on  them." 

Jack  Otis  was  astounded  when  Miss  Hope  Devereux  then 
resolutely  said  with  a  most  determined  glance  at  him,  "  I 
wished  very  much  to  use  a  large  sum  of  money  at  once, 
Mr.  Strong.  I  had  intended  to  speak  to  you  of  this  matter, 
but,  all  seems  so  like  a  dream  to  me,  and  your  departure  is  so 
sudden." 

"Is  it  a  very  large  sum?"  anxiously  demanded  Waldo 
Strong.  "I  could  give  you  my  own  check  here!  The 
bank  will  pay  it,  and  I  will  telegraph  them  from  the  sta- 
tion.    I  would  like  to  arrange  it,  if  I  can." 

"It  is  a  very  large  sum,  "  said  "Miss  Devereux  of  the 
Mariquita,"  as  the  lawyer  and  Otis  exchanged  startled 
glances.  The  young  heiress  of  Mount  Davidson's  millions 
was  already  a  spendthrift  in  thought.  "Two  thousand 
dollars,"  she  solemnly  said  with  a  frightened  air,  as  she 
turned  her  eyes  resolutely  away  from  the  Bostonian,  who 
had  started  laughingly  up,  in  eager  protest. 

"I  can  write  you  a  check  for  that,  very  easily,"  smiled 
the  lawyer  as  he  called  for  pen  and  ink.  "Now,  Miss 
Devereux,"  he  explained,  '.*  You  must  write  your  name 
across  the  back,  k  Hope  Devereux,'  when  you  cash  it.'' 


452  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

A  trembling  hand  on  which  a  great  pigeon  blood  ruby 
shone  in  fiery  splendor  traced  that  name  which  she  was 
fated  to  use  in  this  way  but  once,  in  her  life! 

"There,  sir!  "  she  cried  triumphantly  to  John  Wayne 
Otis.  He  stood,  his  heart  leaping  up  in  a  sudden  joy,  as 
Miss  Devereux  of  the  Mariquita  said  to  her  lawyer. 
''When  you  write  to  me  from  New  York,  you  can  address 
your  letters  to ." 

"Mrs.  John  Wayne  Otis,  at  this  same  residence"  cried 
Jack. 

"  I  have  no  further  fears,  then,  for  your  personal  safety, 
God  bless  you  both!"  said  the  disciple  of  Blackstone,as  he 
went  out  alone  into  the  night. 

Before  he  had  lost  sight  of  Fastnet  light,  Counselor 
Strong  replied  to  a  very  hearty  telegram  which  the  tender 
brought  aboard  at  Queenstown.  Its  words  were  few,  but, 
they  closed  the  pages  of  one  of  life's  books  to  him  forever! 

"  Married  yesterday.  Your  full  control  of  all  Califor- 
nia and  Nevada  affairs  remains  unchanged." 

The  signature  told  him  of  a  new  defiance  to  the  powers 
of  fate  and  the  storms  of  life,  in  the  union  of  two  loving 
hearts,  for  there  was  no  longer  any  such  legal  entity  as 
Miss  Devereux,  of  the  Mariquita.  She  was  but  a  sweet, 
provoking  shadow  of  the  past! 

It  was  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Wayne  Otis  that  the  law- 
yer's congratulations  were  dispatched,  and  the  good  ship 
bore  him  out  on  the  heaving  deep,  his  heart  lonely  and 
sorrowing,  yet,  filled  with  the  consciousness  of  duty  well 
done.  "It  is  hard  to  look  at  happiness,  through  another 
man's  eyes." 

"There  is  something  yet, awaiting  me,"  thought  Waldo 
Strong.  "  It's  to  avenge  outraged  justice,  to  strip  the 
mask  from  this  scoundrel's  face,  to  revenge  the  innocent 
blood  shed  in  the  man  trap  at   Willows  Cross  Roads,  and 


MRS.    HAILEY    OSGOOD'S    GARDEN    PARTY.  453 

to  fathom  the  dark  mystery  of  the  *  Lone  Star'  shaft. "  Look- 
ing back  over  the  darkening  waves,  to  where  Fastnet  light 
gleamed  out  in  the  gathering  gloom,  he  buried  the  one 
love  of  a  life,  in  the  last  sigh  which  he  devoted  to  the 
memory  of  the  past. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  own  darling!  "  he  murmured,  and 
then,  the  peace  of  the  brooding  night  entered  the  soul  of  the 
lonely  man,  and  wrapped  him  in  a  mantle  of  happy  dreams. 


454  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Echoless  Shore. 

"There  is  one  thing  which  I  had  not  thought  of,  dear- 
est," said  Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis,  as  he  presided  with  an 
exaggerated  sense  of  "the  responsibilities  he  had  as- 
sumed," at  a  very  jolly,  if  impromptu,  wedding  dinner. 
1 '  It  seems  as  if  I  were  stealing  you  from  the  public  which 
has  after  all  been  your  true  and  faithful  friend.  Your 
career,  your  present  engagement,"  he  said,  thinking  rue- 
fully of  Mr.  Ernest  Thomas. 

1  <  I  have  a  permanent  engagement  for  life,  to  sing  for 
you,  sir,"  the  bride  gaily  remarked, ■"  and,  you  must  try  to 
make  me  forget  fame,  in  your  love." 

Her  fair  head  was  nestling  low  on  his  breast,  when  he 
suddenly  remembered  a  little  business  matter.  "  I  cashed 
your  check  to-day,  to  save  appearances!  It  was  drawn  to 
the  order  of  Hope  Devereux.  Will  you  allow  me,  Mrs. 
Otis  ?"  and,  he  handed  her  the  firstlings  of  her  recovered 
inheritance, in  a  very  neat  packet  of  white  Bank  of  England 
notes. 

"What  is  this  for?  "  faltered  his  wife. 

"Are  you  aware,"  he  laughed,  "that  we  cannot  carry 
on  this  picnic  honeymoon,  forever!  Mr.  Thomas  comes 
here  this  very  evening,  to  arrange  for  your  reappearance. 
It  is  only  just,  that  he  should  provide  in  time,  for  his 
vacancy. " 

"And,  what  will  you  do  with  me,  sir,"  demanded  the 
girl,  who  had  not  yet  awakened  from  the  dream  which  had 
flushed  a  sudden  life,  into  her  splendid  eyes. 


THE   ECHOLESS    SHORE.  455 

"lam  going  to  first,  show  you  the  dearest  old  home  on 
the  Charles,  and,  some  one  waiting  to  welcome  you  there. 
Your  new  duties  to  the  vast  property  in  dispute  will 
soon  take  you  westward,  for,  Hope,  my  darling,  I  see  a 
shadow  floating  on  the  hitherto  bright  future  of  the  invinc- 
ible Wyman.  I  will  not  risk  you  out  there,  till  his  fate  is 
determined,  but,  the  avenging  furies  are  already  on  his 
trail.  Depend  upon  it,  Strong  will  show  him  no  mercy! 
You  cannot.  You  must  not!  He  will  not,  and,  Wyman 
is  a  human  wolf,  blood  thirsty,  ravenous,  cowardly.  You 
cannot  spare  him.     It  would  be  compounding  a  felony." 

The  sudden  arrival  of  the  bustling  Mr.  Ernest  Thomas 
cutoff  this  serious  colloquy.  "Sorry  to  deprive  you  of 
Miss  Lyndon,"  said  the  genial  manager;  "but,  you  know 
the  public  interests  of  the  lady  are  now  considerable.  I 
must  arrange  the  programme  for  to-morrow  evening." 

Jack  Otis  took  him  kindly  by  the  hand.  "  Mr.  Thomas," 
he  said,  "  I  wish  now  to  thank  you  for  all  your  generous 
liberality,  the  honest  family  friendship  as  well,  towards 
my  wife,  but,  as  soon  as  you  can  find  a  fitting  successor, 
Mrs.  Otis  will  devote  herself,  please  God,  to  an  extended 
wedding  tour.  And,  I  am  sorry  for  your  sake,  that  it  will 
take  her  away  from  the  cordial  audiences  who  have  honored 
her  with  their  warm  appreciation." 

Thomas  gazed  into  the  happy  eyes  of  the  great  singer 
now  lost  to  him  forever.  He  threw  himself  into  an  arm 
chair.  "There  is  a  fatality  which  wrecks  every  plan  I 
make!  Good  Heavens!  What  am  I  saying  though?"  and 
the  cheery  old  boy  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  I'm  sure,  you  know,  I  most  heartily  congratulate  you 
both!  Oh!  yes,  I  do!"  he  said,  as  an  air  of  comical  doubt 
lingered  on  the  faces  of  the  delighted  couple.  "You 
young  rascal!"  he  cried  finally,  as  laughter  overcame  his 
managerial  sorrows,  "I  will  never  again  admit  a  wolf  in 
sheep's  clothing,  into  my  waiting  rooms." 


45 G  MISS   DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

"  Ah!  You  could  not  help  it,  Thomas,"  said  Jack  Otis, 
fondly.  " It  was  written  in  the  stars!  I  have  had  but 
one  thought  since  I  met  the  sweet  woman  I  am  robbing 
you  of.  It  was  to  give  her,  in  a  happy  life,  a  secure  home 
in  a  husband's  love,  some  return,  for  passing  by  the  cher- 
ished laurels. 

''Now,  this  is  so  far  your  secret  alone!  Your  present 
engagement  will  not  be  broken,  but,  my  good  friend,"  he 
cordially  said,  "I  will  assume  the  lohole  management  of 
the  lady,  hereafter." 

"  Will  your  wife  continue  to  sing,"  said  the  open-eyed 
Briton,  still  astounded. 

"I  hope  so!  I  will  permit  her  to  sing  for  you,  when 
you  visit  us  some  day,  on  the  Charles;  and,  always  for  my- 
self," maliciously  remarked  Jack.  "Yes,  she  shall  sing 
in  the  future,  but  only  under  my  direction,  and  in  my  own 
immediate  vicinity." 

A  compact  was  soon  made  which  effected  the  manager's 
forgiveness. 

"You  will  take  your  first  dinner  in  'the  state  to  which 
it  has  pleased  God  to  call  you,'  at  my  house?  " 

' '  I  certainly  owe  you  that,  in  return  for  all  your  true 
kindness,"  smilingly  said  the  happy  bride.  "In  the  mean- 
time, I  am  yet,  to  all,  only  Miss  Gladys  Lyndon. " 

"  By  Jove!"  cried  the  now  anxious  manager,  "I  must 
be  off;  for  telegraphing,  writing  and  exploring  for  a  suc- 
cessor to  you,  will  make  my  life  a  fever,  until,  until  I 
have,  I  hope,  the  fortune  to  find  some  one  who  may  replace 
you  on  the  stage,but,  Miss  Gladys,"  he  sighed,  "  not  in  our 
hearts!"  And  so, the  good,  bustling  soul  fled  away,  his  re- 
marks as  to  the  trials  of  managerial  life  punctuating  his 
departure  in  wistful  regret. 

"Now,  darling,"  said  Jack  Otis,  as  Thomas  ruefully 
departed,  "we  are  facing  the  future  fairly.     When  our 


THE    ECHOLESS    SHORE.  457 

little  masquerade  is  over,  I  will  take  you  home,  as  soon  as 
Strong  will  allow  us  to  sail.  We  must  allow  him  time  to 
trap  Wyman." 

"And,  the  great  book?"  Hope  said  teasingly,  standing 
laughing  at  his  side. 

"<  The  History  of  Modern  Architecture?'  I  have  de- 
cided to  defer  its  completion,  until— until— "  the  bride- 
groom hesitated;  "until,  you  are  so  familiar  with  local 
Boston  architecture,  that  you  can  aid  me  in  the  completion 
of  that  great  and  long-needed  work. " 

It  is  a  matter  of  regret  to  chronicle  that  the  life 
achievement  of  Mr.  John  Wayne  Otis  remained,  to  the  in- 
finite sorrow  of  his  inquiring  friends,  forever  in  embryo, 
a  magnificent  fragment,  a  mere  torso,  and  the  eyes  of  his 
beautiful  wife  never  rested  upon  the  concluding  pages  of  a 
work  lost  to  the  world  by  her  own  sweet  perturbations. 
And  yet,  Jack  Otis  never  regretted  the  lost  laurels  of  liter- 
ature, as  he  demurely  sported  the  myrtle  of  love! 

A  fierce-eyed  man  paced  the  silent  halls  of  his  bachelor 
eyrie  on  Kearney  Street,  in  far-away  San  Francisco,  burn- 
ing his  heart  out  in  impatient  ejaculations:  It  was  the 
still  defiant  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman.  He  was  attended  only 
by  the  mute  old  accountant,  Brown,  and  his  astonished 
young  secretary,  Hopkins,for  the  man  seemed  to  be  breaking 
up  with  ominous  swiftness. 

Mr.  Horace  Wilder,  in  vain,  demanded  intelligent 
1  <  Board  orders. "  "I  can  do  nothing  now,  Wyman,  unless 
you  direct  me,"  sternly  said  the  broker  to  his  chief. 

"What  can  I  tell  you?"  roared  Wyman,  in  despair. 
« <  The  mine  is  shut  down.  Only  the  accountant,  McManus, 
my  foreman,  the  watchman,  and  the  official  keeper  are 
there,  now.  There  is  no  news  for  the  market.  Pending 
this  patent  contest  and  the  trial  of  this  blackmail  suit,  let 
the  stock  go  where  it  will,  no  sales  now,  will  hold." 


458  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

And  so,  the  securities  of  the  priceless  "Lone  Star" 
stood  at  a  mere  nominal  figure,  no  one  daring  to  buy  or 
sell  heavily. 

The  London  expert  had  long  since  gone  back  to  "per) 
fide  Albion,"  and  the  "Lone  Star"  deal  was  long  since 
publicly  abandoned.  * '  The  mine  had  been  withdrawn 
from  the  London  market."  Such,  was  the  official  state- 
ment of  record. 

"VVynian  raged  vainly  at  heart.  His  thieving  hands  were 
now  tied.  He  counseled  with  none  save  the  prominent 
lawyers  to  whom  he  had  given  a  golden  largesse  of  gi- 
gantic dimensions. 

"  If  I  can  hear  from  Morani  before  Buf ord  arrives,  I 
may  know  at  last  how  to  act!"  he  fiercely  growled.  The 
darkest  forebodings  filled  his  heart,  for  even  Miss  Minnie 
Buford  had  ceased  to  write  to  him,  the  bright  imaginings 
of  her  heart.  Here  was  a  new  danger — the  swamping  of 
his  social  ambitions! 

It  lacked  but  five  days  of  the  hearing  when  he  received 
General  Buford's  anxiously  awaited  telegram  from  Truckee, 
"  Meet  me  at  my  own  house  this  evening." 

1  <  Where  the  mischief  can  Milly  Hammond  be  linger- 
ing?" muttered  Wyman.  "."She  might  at  least  give  me 
the  history  of  the  London  happenings." 

Alas!  he  knew  not  that  by  a  singlular  deference  to  "local 
opinion,"  Mrs.  Hammond,  the  velvet-eyed,  lingered  art- 
fully two  weeks  later  in  New  York,  than  the  robust,  en- 
amored capitalist  of  Nob  HilL  And,  she  was  already 
selecting  little  articles  to  further  adorn  the  "haven  of 
rest"  for  the  disgusted  and  overwearied  General.  He 
craved  that  rest! 

"Marry  my  one  daughter  to  that  rash  fool?  Never!  " 
roared  out  the  old  financier,  who  only  respected  success. 
* i  A  man  who  drags  my  own  name  in  the  London  mire,  is 


THE   ECHOLfiSS    StiOtti2.  450 

too  great  a  fool  ever  to  enter  my  family.  I  will  let  that 
engagement  just  break  itself,"  he  added,  with  two  or  three 
good,  solid  oaths,  as  anchors  to  the  forcible  remark. 
,  Wyman's  busy  detectives  had  failed  to  even  locate 
Counselor  Strong.  None  of  them  saw  a  watchful  man,  in 
extremely  opaque  blue  eye-shades,  busied  sorting  letters  in 
the  mail  car,  all  the  way  from  New  York  to  Reno. 

By  a  strange  accident,  Inspector  Stanton  met  this  very- 
postal  clerk  at  Reno, and  they  wTere  snugly  ensconced  at 
Willow  Creek  station,  on  the  evening  when  Buford  and 
Wyman  met  in  tho  irate  General's  library  on  Nob  Hill. 

When  Stanton  saw  the  photographed  picture  which 
Hope  Devereux  had  given  over  to  the  London  bank,  he 
quietly  said,  "That's  the  murdered  man,  Robert  Dev- 
ereux. Give  it  to  me!"  And,  before  they  walked  out  to 
find  the  lonely  grave  in  the  meadowrs,  all  the  "  old-timers" 
at  "Willow  Cross  Roads,"  had  unhesitatingly  recog- 
nized it. 

"This  puts  the  whole  matter  beyond  the  last  doubt," 
said  Counselor  Strong,  as  they  plunged  along  through  the 
wet  grass,  guided  by  the  loyal  teamster,  who  had  in  his 
boyish  way,  loved  the  poor  invalid. 

"I  wonder  what  Wyman  will  do  now,"  mused  the 
lawyer,  aloud. 

"  I  will  tell  you!  He  will  kill  you  himself,  if  he  gets  a 
chance,"  earnestly  replied  Stanton.  "When  he  sees  your 
hand  in  this  affair,  he  will  be  a  dangerous  man," 

"  He'll  have  to  be  pretty  quick  about  it  then,  to  escape 
the  detectives,"  grimly  said  Strong.  "I  will  have  war- 
rants soon  drawn  to  arrest  him  for  forgery  and  perjury,  if 
he  dares  to  come  to  Virginia  City  to  contest  the  case.  As 
for  my  own  'down -sittings  and  my  up-risings,'  I  am  not 
unmindful  of  the  chances. "  The  stern  lawyer  flashed  out 
a  pair  of  Colt's  police  revolvers  with  a  most   remarkable 


460  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

dexterity.  "I  would  kill  that  man  as  soon  as  I  would 
shoot  a  dog,"  remarked  Strong,  calmly.  "Let  him  now, 
beware.  The  days  of  hired  murder  are  past.  He  might 
be  only  a  victim!" 

"  There's  something  else  behind  this,  than  mere  money," 
mused  Stanton,  thinking  of  this  deadly  hatred,  as  the  three 
men  walked  home  under  the  stars. 

Waldo  Strong  had  at  last  found  his  dead  witness.  With 
prophetic  care,  he  posted  a  secret  watch  on  the  grave  of 
Devereux  until  future  orders. 

"I  wonder  if  there  was  ever  a  woman  in  the  case!" 
mused  the  inspector,  for  he  strangely  reflected  that  his 
legal  friend  had  been  strangely  mute  as  to  the  personality 
of  "Miss  Devereux  of  the  Mariquita." 

"Who  the  devil  .is  she  anyway?"  wondered  Stanton; 
for,  Miss  Devereux  remained  a  myth  to  even  him,  so  far. 

Before  Frederick  Wyman  climbed  the  tortuous  plais- 
ance  drive  to  the  lofty  summit  of  Nob  Hill  on  this  battle 
night,  he  had  received  a  cablegram  from  Antoine  Morani 
at  London,  which  told  him  that  General  Buford  was  his 
Blucher  in  the  last  struggle  of  his  life. 

The  valet  himself  was  startled,  and,  for  the  first  time, 
began  to  doubt  the  permanence  of  his  functions  near  the 
person  of  that  "glass  of  fashion  and  mould  of  form," 
Frederick  Wyman,  Esq. ,  and  as  he  wrote  out  his  cable  dis- 
patch in  good  round  English,  he  vigorously  damned  the 
departed  Vinnie  Hinton.  "This  whole  business  is  that 
sleek  she-deviPs  work"  he  swore.  "The  next  good  place 
I  get,  I  hope  will  be  with  a  woman-hater.  It  is  always  a 
woman  who  kicks  the  pot  of  gold  over!  By  God!  what  a 
sex; "  and  then  Tony  smiled.  "  There  are,  after  all,  a  good 
many  chances,  around  these  fascinating  little  woman  affairs 
to  pick  up  an  honest  dollar.  They  move  the  world  along 
with  a  jump,  these  women,  after  all,"  he  relentingly  said. 


THE   ECH0LESS    SHORE.  461 

But,  he  wrote  and  telegraphed  in  Wyman's  own  cipher: 
' '  They  must  know  all  now.  Hooper  made  a  full  confes- 
sion, before  his  hearing.  Strong  has  sailed  for  America. 
Must  be  now  near  you.  Vinnie  gone  to  continent.  Too 
late  to  do  anything  here.  Some  treachery  on  foot  towards 
you.  Telegraph  me  funds.  Will  come  home.  Singer 
still  here." 

''Who  the  devil  can  be  always  pushing  this  thing  at 
me,"  cried  the  now  half-crazed  villain.  "Strong  must 
have  been  sent  out  there  by  the  banks  to  promise  Hooper 
their  help  if  he  would  restore  some  of  the  money."  And 
so,  he  cursed  the  day  when  he  sent  his  ill-judged  anony- 
mous denunciation  on  to  London.  For,  the  local  press  had 
also  noised  abroad  with  true  western  pride,  the  connection 
of  the  departed  "Jim  the  Penman,"  with  the  superbly  exe- 
cuted forgeries  which  had  waked  up  sleepy  London. 

It  was  clear  that  the  gigantic  profits  of  their  cool 
swindler  had  been  safely  harvested  on  the  continent. 
"They  may  now  even  make  terms  with  him,  and,  at  any 
rate,  he  has  struck  back  at  me  like  a  rattlesnake.  It  was 
my  ruin." 

"Vinnie,  Vinnie  Hinton,"  he  apostrophized,  as  the  sug- 
gestive beauty  of  the  vanished  goddess  glowed  richly, 
gloating  there  above  him,  meeting  the  glance  of  his  wild 
eyes.  "  She  has  simply  cleared  out.  That's  all!  She 
had  no  hand  in  this." 

He  vaguely  called  back  his  needless  row  with  the 
insolent  and  half  drunken  Hooper  in  these  very  rooms. 
"  Force  is  wrong,"  he  cried.  "  It  was  a  gross  mistake," 
he  gloomily  said.  "Force  is  always  a  final  mistake!  'i 
ought  to  have  just  slipped  a  few  grains  of  morphine  in  his 
whisky,  that  night,  and  then,  paid  the  coroner  five  thousand 
dollars  for  a  heart  disease  certificate. " 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  a  fool,  and  now— now,  I  have  to  buy 


462  MISS   DEVEREUX   OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

my  way  out.     I  have  but  one  hope  left  now.     That  is  to 
have  General  Buford  to  *  square  '  the  Judge! 

"A  hundred  thousand  for  the  Judge  to  throw  the  two 
cases  out  of  court.  Fifty  thousand  to  the  Land  Register, 
too.  I  must  stop  them  both  off  now,  in  the  bud.  Buford 
can  easily  fool  the  departments  at  Washington  later!  But, 
how  much  goes  to  him?" 

When  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman  entered  General  Hiram  Bu- 
ford's  library,  he  was  ready  to  guarantee  to  him  one-half 
of  the  debated  interest  for  successfully  quashing  the  two 
clouds  in  his  hard-won  title.  "  It's  now  a  case  of  life  and 
death,"  snarled  Wyman.  With  his  hand  on  the  door  of  a 
Nob  Hill  mansion  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  was  yet, 
most  unhappy.  His  eyes  rested  on  all  the  storied  splendors 
of  this  dream  of  luxury. 

"I  must  have  the  girl,  too!  "  he  muttered.  "She is  the 
sine  qua  non.  She  will  bring  the  money  all  back,  and 
more,  too.  Yes,  it's  a  safe  speculation."  And  so,"  the  noble- 
man of  Nature  "  ventured  boldly  into  the  presence  of  the 
fiery-faced  Jephthah,  whose  sprightly  heiress  he  would 
fain  like  to  take  to  his  own  innocent  bosom. 

A  royal  wooer! 

The  first  greeting  bitterly  undeceived  him,  for,  when  the 
disturbed  wooer  wrapped  her  name  in  his  "  more  rawer 
breath,"  General  Hiram  coldly  remarked: 

"  Let  us  not  speak  now  of  my  daughter,  sir!  We  will 
consider  that  little  matter  at  an  end,  at  least,  for,  the 
present.  I  wish  to  know  how  you  can  repair  the  trouble 
and  damage,  as  well  as  shame  of  your  blundering  opera- 
tions, in  so  far  as  they  relate  to  me. 

"  I  have  been  made  a  damned  fool  of,  in  London,  sir, 
and  by  you,  by  your  headlong  stupidity." 

Wyman  took  his  cue  at  once.     He  was  desperate. 

"You  think  so?     Now,  I  came  here  to  talk  business,  to 


THE    ECHOLESS    SHORE.  463 

show  you  how  you  would  be,  at  once,  more  than  recouped 
in  every  way;  how  you  would  get  your  own  money  and 
time  back  in  a  royal  profit,  and,  we  would  wind  up  with 
the  mine  clear,  and  you,  a  clean  half  a  million  to  the  good." 
Wyman  gazed  fiercely  at  the  pompous  old  man,  who  weak- 
ened before  the  young  speculator's  resolute  attitude. 

"Now, you  begin  to  talk  like  a  man!  Sit  down  and  tell 
me  how  you  can  do  it,"  said  the  mollified  Buford,  holding 
out  his  hand  in  a  rough  welcome.  He  rang  for  brandy  and 
cigars  and  then  said,  "Johnson,  I  am  at  home  to  no  one!" 

Frederick  Wyman  well  plied  his  powers  of  persuasion. 
He  was  dealing  the  greatest  game  of  his  life.  His  stolen 
fortune  and  the  heiress,  hung  on  the  cards. 

One  hour  later  the  General  was  in  a  joyous  mood.  The 
entente  cordiale  was  restored.  The  brandy  bottle  too,  was 
half  empty.     The  oil  of  gladness! 

"It's  a  good  scheme,  Wyman,  a  good  scheme,  "merrily  said 
Buford,  "I  will  take  you  up  there  on  my  own  private  car 
as  far  as  Truckee.  We  will  be  able  to  confer  alone.  I 
will  telegraph  to  the  judge  to  meet  me  at  Carson.  You 
can  come  down  in  the  regular  train  and  be  ready  to  go  up 
with  your  own  lawyers  for  the  trial.  You  must  show  a 
bold  front,"  he  mused. 

"  No,  you  had  better  stay  down  here,"  he  said  later,  "  I 
will  telegraph  you  when  to  come  up,  and  then  meet  me  at 
Auburn,  as  if  by  accident." 

The  great  man  waved  Wyman  a  most  friendly  adieu,  with 
his  burning  cigar,  at  the  great  portal  of  his  palace. 

He  whispered  at  parting,  "Of  course,  if  this  goes 
through  all  right,  the  other  little  private  matter  can  be 
moved  on,  later." 

For,  General  Hiram  Buford  believed  in  his  own  heart, 
that  "circumstances  altered  cases." 

"It  will   alter   these   two   casee,  unless  the  judge  has 


464  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

changed  very  much  since  I  met  him  last,"  said  General 
Buford,  as  he  took  his  copious  sleeping  draught.  "At 
any  rate,I  must  take  no  risk,  a  man  of  my  position,  "and  then, 
he  laid  a  very  contented  head  upon  his  downy  pillow;  for, 
Mrs.  Milly  Hammond  was  on  her  way  to  these  balmy 
western  shores  to  which  her  beauty  would  lend  a  new 
light,  a  very  grateful  and  pleasing  light,  to  the  enraptured 
general,  for  that  light,  spoke  of  "the  well-merited  repose" 
he  looked  for,  in  the  future  enjoyment  of  her  "intellectual 
companionship." 

There  were  friendly  spirits,  too,  in  the  air,  who  minis- 
tered that  night  to  Wyman's  repose.  "If  I  only  had  Vin- 
nie  here,  now,"  he  murmured,  and  then,  drifted  away  on  a 
sea  of  hopeful  dreams. 

It  was  the  fate  of  General  Hiram  Buford,  two  days 
later,  to  receive  a  most  clear  exposition  of  the  law  of  de- 
scent, and  several  other  matters  germane  to  the  contest  over 
the  "Lone  Star"  mine,  from  the  eminent  judge  who  was  soon 
to  hear  in  court  the  matter  of  the  Devereux  estate.  The 
two  men  sat  en  petite  comity  at  a  dinner  worthy  of  a  moun- 
tain Lucullus.  The  privacy  of  the  place,  the  excellence  of 
the  Burgundy  and  the  warm  friendship  of  the  two  men, 
justified  the  coy  judge  in  his  lucid  explanation  of  the  wary 
refusal  of  what  General  Buford  effectively  termed,  "a 
good  chunk  of  boodle." 

"Hiram,"  said  the  judge,  with  a  fearful  look  at  the  doors 
and  windows,  "  I  would  like  to  help  you,  and  to  help  my- 
self. I  am  always  willing  to  do  a  favor.  I  cannot,  here! 
First,  there  is  a  regular  avalanche  of  Devereux  reminis- 
cences now  flooding  the  excited  town.  <  Trifles  light  as  air,' 
but,  the  straws  all  unfortunately  point  one  way!  Your 
friend,  Wyman  is  in  for  it.  Bob  Haley  is  a  great  power  on 
the  Comstock.  He  has  roused  up  the  whole  Miners'  Union, 
and,  they  now  swear  vengeance  for  the  men  whom  they  be- 


THE    ECHOLESS    SHORE.  465 

lieve  Wyman  burned  in  the  mine  to  break  the  stock 
down  to  nothing.  He  is  a  cool  chap,  this  Wynian,  he 
may  have  done  that  trick.  Now,  only  a  little  one-horse 
firm  of  young  attorneys  have  so  far,  appeared  in  the  case. 
Waldo  Strong,  though,  has  just  been  entered  as  the  at- 
torney of  record,  and  he  has  as  counsel,  Henry  Edgerly,  the 
greatest  speaker  now  alive,  at  our  bar.  There  is  no  law  to 
fight  over  in  this!  Strong  has  only  put  him  in  to  lash  the 
miners  up  to  madness  with  a  ringing  speech.  I  would  be 
afraid  of  my  own  life  if  I  dallied  with  justice. 

"Andy  Bowen  is  walking  the  streets  too,  heavily  armed! 
He  is  a  pretty  fair  character  for  a  rough  miner.  He  swears 
that  Fred  Wyman  has  ruined  him,andthathe  will  kill  him  on 
sight.  Now,  that's  lex  talonis.  You  see,  Hiram,"  aid 
the  judge,  "as  Allan  Thurman  remarked  once,  'Law  is 
simply  common  sense,  and  you  cannot  refine  it.'  Here  is 
the  whole  thing,  in  a  nutshell:  Wyman  never  owned  this 
three-quarters  of  the  mine,  the 'Lone  Star, 'or  the  'Mariquita.' 
His  whole  honest  holding,  one-quarter,  was  really,  a  gift 
from  poor  Devereux.  Now,  he  sets  up  a  transfer  by  this  same 
man  Devereux  to  the  other  three-quarters.  The  facts 
prove  Devereux  to  have  been  dead  fully  six  months,  before 
that  deed  was  made.  No  matter  who  owns  that  interest, 
Wyman  does  not!  In  possession  of  the  mine,  he  was 
really  only  a  trustee  for  the  real  owners.  He  is  account- 
able to  them  for  all  back  rents  and  profits.  For  the  set- 
ting up  of  the  false  deed,  the  forgery  and  subsequent  per- 
jury, he  is  accountable  to  the  State. 

"Now,  his  able  lawyers  cannot  force  Waldo  Strong  to 
show  his  hand.  He  merely  proves  that  a  certain  woman 
child  is  the  only  legal  heiress  of  the  dead  man.  If  he 
should  fail  to  get  letters  for  her,  the  public  administrator 
then  conies  in,  but,  Wyman  is  nowhere.  His  incorpora- 
tion, also,  is  void,  and,  he  can  get  no  United  States  patent. 


460  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

The  stock  now  out,  is  worthless.  Any  holder  can  sue  the 
directors  for  the  value  of  all  his  bonafide  purchases.  So, 
as  Strong  can  go  either  quickly  or  slowly,  he  is  the  abso- 
lute master!  He  can  push  the  patent  contest,  and  dally 
with  the  other  suit  if  he  wishes.  He  may  also,  cut  across 
lots,  and  simply  begin  criminal  proceedings  against  Wy- 
man.  The  hearing  is  soon  coming  on.  I  could  delay  it 
a  little,  say  twenty  days,  as  a  personal  favor  to  you.  Let 
Wyman's  lawyer  ask  for  it.  I  am  not  speaking  ex  cathedra, 
but,  my  advice  to  Wyman  is,either  to  compromise,  or  skip." 

The  Judge  washed  down  this  little  lecture  with  a  huge 
beaker  of  Burgundy.  As  he  lit  a  Henry  Clay,  he  smiled 
benignly  at  Buf ord,  l '  You  see,  my  dear  old  boy,  if  there- 
was  any  shadow  of  a  contest,  I  could  lean  your  way  and 
then,  decide  in  your  interest  no  matter  how  barefaced,  but, 
Great  Heavens,  it  decides  itself.  If  I  could  get  a  chance  to 
weigh  the  weight  of  evidence,  I  could  also  decide  for  you, 
and  your  own  people  have  interest  enough  to  sustain  me,  in 
the  final  appeal.  But,  Wyman  has  no  shadow  of  claim 
save  the  foolish  and  clumsy  trick. 

"If  he  had  simply  held  on  as  partner  he  would  have  had 
a  far  better  showing  for  possession,  lapses;  and  limitation- 
might  have  helped  him.  His  own  conduct  has  damned 
him.  He  does  not  come  into  court  with  clean  hands.  The 
town  is  now  full  of  people  waiting  here  for  the  first  hear- 
ing. If  this  Devereux  child  does  not  get  this  property, 
every  big  claim  north  and  south  will  then  pitch  in,  and  set 
up  a  shadow  title  to  it.  The  k  swearing  element'  is  all  here, 
waiting  a  rich  harvest.  My  advice  to  you  is  to  quietly 
drop  this  fellowr  Wyman,  for  he  will  hurt  even  you  in 
public  esteem.     He  is  too  heavy  a  load  to  drag." 

' '  But,  he  owes  me  a  lot  of  money.  I  want  to  get  squarely 
out  of  his  clutches.  He  has  tied  me  up,  too,  in  the  Lon- 
don foolery."     Buf  ord  was  indignant. 


THE   ECHOLBSS    SHORE.  4.67 

"Ah!  That's  another  thillg•,,,  the  oily  Judge  remarked. 
"You  then  go  hack,  and  force  Wyman  at  once,  to  a  settle- 
ment. Tell  him  I  told  you  for  him  to  apply  for  twenty 
days:  I'll  give  it!  Put  on  all  your  thumbscrews,  and  when 
you  are  k  clear  out,'  then  telegraph  me,  in  your  own  name. 
Just  say,  k  All  right.'  So,  you  will  be  safe.  Let  him  then, 
go  to  the  devil.1' 

"  I  am  a  thousand  times  obliged  to  you,1' said  Buford,- 
as  the  two  cunning  men  parted.  The  General  whispered, 
"I'll  stick  five  thousand  dollars  on  the  settlement  for  you. 
I'll  send  to  you  a  certificate  of  deposit,  'X.  Y.  Z,'  at  our 
bank.  You  can  drop  in  and  dine  with  me,  next  time  you're 
in  town,  and  Til  then  cash  it." 

•The  Judge's  eyes  twinkled  gratefully.  "  Hiram,"  he 
murmured,  "Don't  make  any  mistake.  Wyman  is  a  dead 
man  if  he  ever  shows  up  here.  Tell  him  that!  Tell  him 
I  said  so!  I  don't  wish  to  see  a  bloody  riot  here.  Let 
him  take  the  best  terms  he  can.  Perhaps  you  can  make 
a  deal  on  him." 

General  Hiram  Buford  slept  happily  in  his  private  car 
as  he  rolled  merrily  along  back  to  San  Francisco.  He  had 
already  telegraphed  to  Wyman,  "Partly  successful.  Wait 
for  me  in  the  city;  coming  down." 

"That  will  keep  him  there,"  mused  the  drowsy 
General.  "I'll  telegraph  to  Pauline  to  have  Minnie  now 
dismiss  him  finally.  There's  an  English  fellow  hanging 
round  her.     A  good  match  too !    When  I  have  been  well  paid 

for  all  my  time  and  losses,  he  can  go  to  ."     The  rest 

of  this  soliloquy  was    lost  in  a   profound    snore  due  to  a 
mixture  of  very  good  law  and,  much  better  Burgundy. 

A  wise  man  in  Israel  was  this  '  'prominent  citizen  "  who 
dreamed  of  Mrs.  Milly  Hammond's  cosy  retreat  for  his 
over-taxed  brain,  wearied  in  doing  good. 

Wyman  listened  to   the  whole  statement  of    the  case  in 


468  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

Virginia  City,  as  artfully  presented  by  General  Buford  on 
his  return.  The  evening  was  not  far  advanced  when  the 
excited  conspirator  dispatched  to  his  attorneys  in  Nevada 
at  once,  to  ask  the  delay  of  twenty  days  "  on  the  ground  of 
his  own  severe  illness." 

"You  can  easily  go  to  bed,  and  then,  send  up  a  doctor's 
certificate,"  practically  said  the  General,  "and  I'll  come 
down  to  your  office  to-morrow  and  see  how  we  stand." 

"A  very  fair  settlement,"  remarked  General  Buford 
next  day,  when  Frederick  Wyman  had  drawn  very  heavily 
upon  his  hidden  cash  reserve.  "  You  see  the  judge  will  be 
down  here  next  week,  and,  your  lawyers  have  a  chance  to 
see  him  now.  I  will,  of  course,  advise  with  you,  Wyman," 
said  Buford,  as  he  made  a  mental  note  to  cash  Wyman's 
heavy  check  at  once.  "  I  will  see  the  Anglo  bank  and 
tell  them  you  have  acted  uprightly  in  every  way,  with  me. 
That  is  all  I  can  do."  The  great  man  beamed  upon  his 
prospective  son-in-law. 

"  Yes,  General,  it  will  help  me  if  you  will  do  so,"  grate- 
fully replied  Wyman.  "  My  chief  counsel  will  be  here 
to-night,  and  I  will  come  in  and  see  you." 

"  Certainly,-  certainly,  always  glad,"  murmured  the 
General,  in  his  very  grandest  manner.  "But,  my  boy, 
make  a  judicious  compromise.  Remember,  always  remem- 
ber, I  tell  you,  the  Judge,  however  well  disposed,  is  tied 
down  by  fact  and  statute." 

"I  shall  try  a  compromise,"  said  Wyman  with  already 
clouded  brow.  "But,  this  fellow  Strong  hates  me. 
Where  he  is  hiding  his  pauper  heiress,  I  cannot  say.  He 
has  been  seen  at  Virginia  City  lately,  but  he  has  no  woman 
with  him." 

"I  really  think,  Wyman,"  said  Buford,  "that  Strong 
drifted  into  the  case  through  his  hunting  up  the  old 
Hooper  frauds.     You  will  find  out  yet,  it  is  some  one  else 


THE   ECHOLESS    SHORE.  4fl9 

who  has  dug  up  the  alleged  heiress.     You  have  no    idea 

who  she  is?  " 

"Not  in  the  slightest,"  growled  Wyman.  "You  see 
we  cannot  call  on  them.  They  put  their  own  proof  into 
the  court.  It's  a  blind  lead,  and  so,  the  fight  comes  "  butt 
end  on."  We  are  right  in  the  thick  of  it,  before  we  know 
where  we  are.  I  would  not  like  to  be  left  to  this  Waldo 
Strong's  tender  mercies.  I  hurt  him  once  sorely  in  a  stock 
deal,"  Wyman  slowly  said,  "and,  we  were  also  abit  mixed 
up  in  a  little  woman  business.  That  is,  I  fear,  I  ran 
against  his  hidden  plans,  in  that  regard." 

Coming  shadows  upon  the  soul  of  Richard! 

"Ah!"  ejaculated  Buford,  "I  see  the  veiled  animus 
then!  But,  Good  God!  Wyman!"  roared  Buford,  "Strong 
is  no  lady-killer.  He  is  about  as  stylish  as  the  outside  of 
one  of  his  law  books.     Just  about!  " 

"Women  do  take  damned  strange  fancies  into  their 
heads,  sometimes,"  remarked  Mr.  Frederick  Wyman,  ener- 
getically, as  he  "divided  the  luck,"  in  a  parting  drink  with 
Buford. 

"Right  you  are!"  said  the  rotund  General,  as  he  but- 
toned his  Prince  Albert  over  the  liberal  check.  "They 
do,  at  times,  play  the  very  devil.  Do  you  know,  Wyman," 
said  the  angry  capitalist,  "I  have  even  had  trouble  with 
them,  myself!  And,yet,"  he  sighed,  "I  don't  see  any  way 
to  avoid  it,  unless  you  let  them  alone,  altogether.  They 
are  a  gay  and  festive  lot! " 

With  which  invincible  aphorism,  the  man  who  was 
about  to  call  on  Mrs.  Milly  Hammond,  and  "  inspect  the 
haven  of  rest,"  fled  forth  after  the  fashion  of  a  dove  from 
the  Ark,  on  troubled  waters. 

Mr.  Wyman  spent  the  next  day  closeted  with  Paul 
Cadwallader,  his  leading  counsel.  The  gray  old  advocate 
smoked  vigorously  with  his  hat  jammed  over  his  eyes,    as 


4v0  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF   THE    MARIQUITA. 

Wyman  blundered  along,  from  one  semi-admission  to 
another.  His  story  was- a  lame  one  in  every  leg,  and,  alas! 
it  had  more  legs  than  the  law  allows. 

The  round,  full,  moon  face  of  the  lawyer  became  as 
grave  as  a  Catholic  priest's  most  austere  visage.  When  he 
at  last  broke  in,  his  voice  was  harsh  and  unsympathetic. 
It  was  the  verdict  of  a  mental  giant.  "See  here,  Wy- 
man! You  are  like  all  my  other  clients.  You  tell  me  half 
truths,  at  the  wrong  time,  and  then,  pay  me  to  pull  you 
out  of  the  holes  which  you  dig  for  yourselves.  Why, 
damn  it,  man!  You've  fought  this  fellow,  Strong.  He 
has  the  age  on  you.  He  is  of  the  '  inner  temple.'  You 
are  only  a  nervy  speculator.  When  he  commenced  to  dog 
you,  you  should  have  nailed  him,  with  a  good  bribe, 
as  a  legal  retainer.  Taken  him  in!  He  would  have  then, 
have  smothered  the  whole  thing.  Bought  up  this  little 
freckle-faced  pauper,  who  has  been  probably  pulled  out  of 
some  back  alley,  and,  you  and  he,  would  have  been  then, 
joint  owners  of  a  good  thing.  'Particeps  criminis,' 
That  is  to  say,  general  partners,"  said  the  cool  old  coun- 
selor. 

"Yes,  but,  there  was  a  woman  in  the  case,"  urged 
Wyman. 

The  lawyer  snorted  in  disdain. 

"Bother  the  woman!"  roared  Cadwallader.  "You 
should  have  let  him  have  had  her.  For  all  you  know,  he 
would  have  gladly  made  you  a  present  of  her,  in  six 
months.  'Jam  satis.'  Enough  of  a  good  thing!  Women! 
Why  the  very  woods  are  full  of  them  out  here!  But, 
you  don't  find  a  mine  like  the  *  Lone  Star,'  every  day.  • 

"Now,  you  tell  me  to  make  a  compromise  foryou.  They 
will  now  cut  and  carve  deeply,  my  boy,  at  the  best,  where 
they  would  only  have  nibbled  before!  But,  it's  after  all 
yours  to  decide. 


THE   ECHOLESS    SHORE.  4V1 

"I  tell  you  plainly,  in  law,  I  can  do  nothing  for  you.  It's 
not  your  mine  anyway,  that  is,  the  three-quarters,  and,  it 
never  was.     What  shall  I  do?  " 

''See  what  you  can  do  with  the  Strong  party,"  sullenly 
growled  Wyman.  "Either  ask  their  terms,  or  offer 
them,"  he  hesitated. 

"How  much?"  said  Paul  Cadwallader,  his  little  round 
gray  eyes  now  fixed  on  the  hesitating  man. 

"Half,"  roughly  said  Wyman,  as  he  rose  wearied  and 
at  last  brought  to  bay.  His  very  mind  was  giving  away. 
His  nerve  had  deserted  him. 

"  All  right,"  coolly  said  his  wary  counsel.  "  I'll  let  you 
know  as  soon  as  I  hear  from  Strong.  He  is  in  the  city 
now.  But,  if  it  is  no  go  then,  I  warn  you!  I  won't  go 
back  to  Virginia  City  unless  you  go  with  us,  and,  it  is  my 
duty  to  tell  you  there  is  a  good  deal  of  local  feeling  up 
there  against  you.    They  are  a  very  rough  lot  in  Nevada!  " 

"Can't  you  do  anything  with  the  judge?"  ventured 
Wyman. 

Paul  Cadwallader  wheeled  on  him  like  a  flash.  "He  is 
nailed  down  to  the  cross.  He  can't  squirm!  No  thor- 
oughfare! No,  my  boy.  This  case  unfortunately  decides 
itself!  It  all  hangs  on  the  document,  and,  you  know,  the 
very  execution  of  that  document  by  Devereux  was  an  im- 
possibility.    So,  where's  your  title?" 

"See  what  you  can  do!"  cried  Wyman,  as  he  rushed  out 
of  the  office,  for  the  lawyer's  eyes  were  filled  with  a  cold 
scorn,  which  he  could  not  disguise. 

"Bah!"  said  Cadwallader  as  he  took  up  "Holman  on 
Deeds."  "A  thief  should  never  be  a  fool.  What  a  gang  of 
upstart  scrubs,  and  yet,  they  are  my  clients." 

It  was  three  days  before  the  answer  of  the  attorneys  for 
the  claimant  to  the  Devereux  estate  was  formally  received. 
Mr.  Waldo  Strong,  a  stickler  for  professional  etiquette, 


4*72  MISS   DEVEREUX   OF   THE   MARIQUITA. 

cabled  the  proposition  on  to  London,  where  Miss  Gladys 
Lyndon  was  now  on  the  eve  of  her  last  "appearance  on 
any  stage."  The  life  partners  were  nestling  in  their  love 
hallowed  masquerade  frolic,  and  happier  than  the  full 
throated  birds  of  spring. 

"I  will  do  as  you  advise,  Wayne,"  the  lady  of  the  Mar- 
iquita  remarked.  "I  do  not  feel  like  disregarding  Mr. 
Strong's  intimation.  You  see,  he  has  said,  <  Half  offered 
of  the  whole  property,  immediate  possession  and  past  ac- 
counting. I,  still,  advise  pushing  the  proceedings.  No 
honest  connection  with  Wyman  possible.  He  maybe  in 
other  trouble  soon.  If  you  order  me  to  push  the  suit,  then 
come  on  here  at  once.  No  danger.  Cable  your  decision. 
Time  presses.' " 

"What  shall  I  telegraph,  Lady  Mine,"  replied  her  hus- 
band. "It  is  your  sadly  won  birthright.  I  agree,  of 
course,  with  Strong's  views,  and  your  own  decision,  darl- 
ing, shall  end  it.  You  know  his  vile  character  in  the 
past.     You  would  not  care  to  be  his  partner." 

"God  forbid!"  the  gentle  singer  said,  "  and  I  feel,  too, 
that  I  should  make  a  great  compensation,  all  that  I  can,  to 
the  families  of  the  men  so  strangely  sacrificed  in  my  mine, 
for,  it  seems,"  she  brightly  said,  lifting  her  happy  eyes  to 
her  husband's,  "  that  my  poor  dead  father  did  not  toil  in 
vain!  I  could  kiss  the  very  threshold  of  the  cabin  door  out  of 
which  he  passed  to  die  for  us. "  The  fair  head  was  bowed, 
but  the  tears  were  only  from  the  shadowy  clouds  of  other 
years.      And,  she  was  quickly  strained  to  a  loving  breast. 

"  Then,  Hope,  my  darling,"  said  Jack  Otis,  "your  voice 
is  heard,  for  the  last  time  to-night,  by  your  collective  ad- 
mirers, the  dear  old  solid  '  British  public'  I  will  telegraph, 
*  Go  ahead  with  the  suit,  we  come  at  once.'." 

The  gentle  woman  hesitated  to  say  the  word,  but  she 
bowed  her  stately  head  in  assent. 

It  was  loosening  the  furies! 


THE   ECHOLESS    SHORE.  473 

"I  shall  give  the  extra  share  to  the  poor  orphans;  those 
who  may  tread  a  far  stonier  path  than  the  one  which  has 
brought  you  to  my  side." 

There  was  a  grave  crisis  now  approaching  in  far  away  San 
Francisco ! 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  Mr.  Wyman,  it  is  a  fight  to  the  bitter 
end!"  said  Paul  Cadwallader  to  his  hastily  summoned 
clieut.  Wyman  started  and  then,  noticed  the  formality 
which  is  assumed  at  weddings,  duels,  funerals,  public 
dinners  and,  all  other  "festive  occasious."  The  word 
"Mr."  indicated  a  last  formal  stage  of  the  proceedings! 
11  Now,  we  have  the  law  in  our  hands  and  the  books.  You 
alone  are  responsible  for  the  facts.  The  property  in  debate 
is  also  yours.  Put  your  own  best  foot  now  foremost! 
You  must  have  found. out  some  friendly  witnesses.  You 
have  plenty  of  money.  We  have  eight  or  ten  days  yet. 
Come  in  to-morrow  with  all  your  papers  and  data.  We'll 
make  you  the  very  best  fight  we  can,"  cheerfully  said  the 
astute  counselor.  "  But,  you  must  go  up  there  with  us! 
Without  you,  it  is  Hamlet  without  the  Prince  of  Den- 
mark."    Paul  Cadwallader's  eyes  did  not  lie. 

"  Oh,  certainly,  certainly!"  remarked  Wyman,  who  rose 
and  left  the  office,  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way. 

As  he  stepped  out  of  the  door,  he  noticed  the  changed 
air  of  the  passers-by,  his  very  street  acquaintances  seemed 
to  him,  to  harbor  only  hostile  glances,  and  the  glare  of 
the  sun  itself  looked  cold  and  faded.  The  afternoon  wind 
too,  smote  him  coldly.  "  Damn  the  Mariquita  mine!  I  wish 
I  had  never  heard  of  it,"  he  muttered,  as  he  ran  against 
his  secretary,  Hopkins,  whose  face  was  very  anxious. 

"I was  just  coming  for  you,  sir,"  said  the  keen-eyed 
clerk,  who  diagnosed  his  master  as  suffering  "from  a  mind 
diseased."  "Tony  is  here,  came  right  from  the  train, 
and  wants  to  see  you,  at  once.     He  did   not  even   dare  to 


474  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MABIQUITA. 

come  down  here. "  For,  all  but  Wyman  knew  that  his 
harem  fortress  was  watched  day  and  night,  by  strange 
detectives  now. 

"All  right,"  said  Wyman  briefly.  "I'll  come  up." 
And  he  shivered  slightly  for  the  very  wind  seemed  to 
bring  back  the  blasts,  howling  down  the  gloomy  defiles 
of  blood-haunted  Grizzly  Canon.  He  slipped  into  the  side 
door  of  a  great  saloon,  and  stepping  into  a  private  room 
ordered  a  "bonanza"  cocktail. 

"Put  a  little  absinthe  into  it,  Francois,"  he  murmured, 
as  he  gave  the  man  a  half  dollar.  The  hum  of  voices  on 
the  other  side  of  a  thin  partition  arrested  his  attention. 

"They  say,"  a  rough  voice  remarked,  "that  this  damned 
scoundrel,  Wyman,  is  pretty  near  to  the  end  of  his  rope. 
I  will  always  believe  he  murdered  those  men  in  the  «  Lone 
Star.'     He's  capable  of  anything!  " 

The  listener's  very  blood  froze  in  terror! 

"  If  he  did,  hanging  is  far  too  good  for  him,"  cried  a  rude 
chorus,  as  glasses  loudly  clinked  and  Francois  was  stunned 
and  astonished,  as  his  tray  flew  out  of  his  hands,  for,  with 
a  white  face,  Frederick  Wyman  rushed  out  of  his  place  of 
rest. 

"  That  man  looks  sick,"  cried  the  frightened  French- 
man, as  he  picked  up  the  shattered  glasses. 

Away  up  the  street,  madly  sped  the  "nobleman  of 
Nature,"  and  he  clashed  the  door  of  his  den  loudly  behind 
him,  as  he  threw  off  his  coat  and  tossed  away  hat  and  stick. 

"None  of  that  foolishness.  Tell  me  your  London  news. 
Sit  down! "  ordered  Wyman,  as  Antoine  Morani  sprang  to 
aid  his  excited  master. 

"Well,  what  is  it?  out  with  it! "  the  desperate  man 
roughly  cried. 

"I  found  out,  sir,  that  this  forger  fellow.  Hooper,  has 
confessed  all  about  some  papers  at  Truckee.     The  deposi- 


THE    ECHOLESS    SHORE.  475 

tion  was  copied,  and,  an  extra  certified  original  kept  at 
Newgate  prison.  I  bribed  the  lawyer's  clerk,  and  so,  got  a 
copy  of  that  copy.  *  Here  it  is,  sealed  up,  just  as  he  gave  it 
to  me." 

Wyman  reached  out  his  trembling  hand  and  took  it 
without  a  word. 

"  Hooper  has  already  been  found  guilty  of  one  of  the 
London  forgeries  and  started  off  for  the  penal  colonies. 
Vinnie  is  clean  gone, too." 

The  man  stopped,  and  then,  cast  down  his  eyes. 

" Anything  else?  Speak,  speak  out,  man!"  roared 
Wyman,  in  a  tone  which  admitted  of  no  denial. 

"Only  this,  I  did  not  know  if  I  should,  but,  last " 

While  the  valet  hesitated,  Wyman  snatched  a  blue-pen- 
ciled paper  from  his  hand.  It  was  a  London  Court  and 
Society  Journal. 

His  eyes  swam  as  he  read  the  marked  article: 

"Marriage  in  High  Life." 

"We  understand  that  a  marriage  has  been  arranged  be- 
tween Claude  Cecil,  fourth  Lord  Templeton,  of  the  Oaks, 
Berkshire,  and  Major  of  Her  Majesty's  "Buffs,"  with  Miss 
Minerva,  only  daughter  of  General  Hiram  Buford  of  Cali- 
fornia, the  great  millionaire,  whose  family  are  at  present 
residing  in  their  splendid  London  mansion,  recently  pur- 
chased from  Lord  Mossback,and  lately  refitted  for  the  use 
of  the  new  owner.  The  wedding  will  occur  immediately 
on  the  return  of  General  Buford  from  California,  whither 
he  has  been  called,  temporarily,  by  his  vast  local  interests." 

"The  damned  scoundrel!  I  see  it  all.  He  sold  me  out, 
and  has  fooled  me  all  the  while,"  yelled  Wyman,  forget- 
ting the  presence  of  the  open-eyed  Morani.  He  gloomily 
buried  his  head  in  his  hand. 


4*76  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

"Shall  I  get  you  anything,  sir?"  hazarded  the  fright- 
ened servant. 

"  Yes,  give  me  a  good  stiff  drink,  and  get  out  of  here! 
Wait  in  your  room  till  I  ring  for   you.      Don't  go  away. " 

"Will  you  have  dinner,  sir?  It's  getting  very  late," 
inquired  Tony,  as  he  saw  the  wolfish  way  in  which  his  mas- 
ter swallowed  the  fiery  brandy.  The  shades  of  night  were 
deepening  gloomily  around. 

"No,  I  want  to  sleep.  Don't  wake  me  if  I  fall  asleep," 
and  Wyman  threw  himself,  dressed,  on  his  couch. 

The  hours  crawled  on  in  silence,  a  brooding  silence! 
Once  or  twice  in  the  early  evening,  the  valet  stole  in  and 
gazed  anxiously  at  the  sleeping  man.  "  I  never  saw  him 
look  that  way  before,"  he  said,  filled  with  an  unknown 
fear.  The  lamp  was  glimmering  low  in  the  superb  apart- 
ment, and,  over  the  sleeping  man,  the  beauty  of  Vinnie 
Hinton  floating  aloft,  was  hovering,  an  unearthly  vision  of 
voluptuous  loveliness,  "with  the  lamplight  gloating  o'er." 
Morani  stilled  his  heart,  as  he  gazed  on  the  wonderful 
form,  dreaming  above,  in  its  sea-born  beauty,  the  softly- 
melting  depths  of  the  half-crying  eyes,  and  the  blooming 
face  where  a  long-fled  innocence  seemed  to  linger  still,  on 
the  rosy,  dewy  lips;  to  mock  at  time  and  vice!  There, 
around  him,  were  the  memorials  of  her  witching  presence, 
the  very  chair  she  had  made  her  throne  in  the  halcyon 
days  of  life  and  love. 

"  She  has  been  his  ruin.  It  is  her  work!  "  the  French- 
man sighed,  for,  even  her  vacant  chair  was  a  menace  of 
coming  woe  to  him.  "  She  made  Hooper  peach  on  him, 
and,  he  is  in  danger  now." 

Mr.  Antoine  Morani  resolved  himself  at  once  into  a 
"Committee  of  Ways  and  Means  "  as  to  a  new  place! 
"In  the  near  future,"  he  saw  storms  descending  upon  the 
lordly  mushroom  house  of  Wyman.      "  A  nice  little  hotel 


THE    ECHOLESS    SHORE.  477 

in  Paris,"  he  thought  of,  as  a  final  refuge,  and  the  bright- 
eyed,  little  soubrette  he  had  left  in  London,  figured  there 
as  the  "dame  du  comptoir." 

His  noddings  were  interrupted  by  a  sharp  ring  at  the 
front  door,  and  there  in  the  gloom  of  the  night,  a  diminu- 
tive imp  of  darkness  quickly  shoved  in  a  yellow  telegraph 
envelope  and  a  dirty  paper  book. 

"Double  special.  Answerback.  Delivery  only!  Say, 
Tony,  "  the  boy  leered  as  he  rolled  his  cigarette,  "  There's 
no  monkeying  with  that!  There  was  five  dollars  came 
down  with  it,  for  instant  delivery.  Get  the  old  man  to 
sign  it  himself,  that's  my  orders  from  the  office!  " 

With  a  sinking  heart,  the  valet  entered  the  sleeping 
room  and  roused  Wyman,  who  started  up  with  an  oath. 
"I  had  to  get  your  own  signature,  sir.  It's  specially  im- 
portant! "  Frederick  Wyman  read  it,  and  then,  threw  him- 
self back  on  the  couch,  his  staring  eyes  fixed  on  the  pictured 
beauties  of  the  one  woman  who  had  ruled  his  heart  with 
her  glowing  charms.  He  grasped  the  pencil  and  scratched 
his  name! 

Morani  stole  on  tip-toe  out  of  the  room.  He  dared  not 
turn  his  head  again,  for  something  in  Wyman's  face  awed 
him.  Dropping  the  heavy  double  curtain,  he  cast  a  glance 
at  him  lying  there,  under  the  spell  of  the  half  crying  eyes, 
and  then,  went  down  to  the  side  door.  He  was  frightened 
at  Wyman's  face. 

He  carefully  locked  the  door  after  the  boy  had  gone 
away.  He  then,  closed  all  the  doors  between  his  own 
rooms  and  Wyman's  apartment.  "Is  he  going  to  skip?" 
mused  the  valet.  "I'll  watch  him!"  He  gave  up  his 
worries  and  sat  down  to  a  neat  little  supper  he  had  laid 
privately  away,  for  his  long  night-watch.  "If  he  wants 
me,  he  will  ring  for  me,"  thought  Tony,  "but,  I  never 
saw  him  in  such  a  humor.  Something  must  be  wrong  at 
the  mine." 


478  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

As  he  lifted  his  glass  to  pour  a  libation  to  the  girl  in 
London,  he  dropped  it  with  a  crash,  for,  a  muffled  explosion 
sounded  upon  his  ears.  The  shock  of  a  heavy  fall  fol- 
lowed, and  there  was  no  settled  purpose  in  the  near 
frantic  rush  of  the  frightened  valet  into  his  master's 
room.  There,  upon  the  floor,  with  his  hands  clutching  the 
tufted  Persian  carpet  and  a  smoking  pistol  at  his  side,  lay 
the  defeated  man  who  had  played  his  last  card  in  life! 
His  eyes  were  still  staring  upwards,  as  he  lay  there  with 
his  arms  wildly  outspread  in  his  crashing  fall,  but,  a  dark 
pool  of  blood  welled  around  his  stiffening  form.  He  had 
died  gazing  at  the  mocking  face  smiling  down  over 
him! 

In  fright,  the  valet  turned  up  the  light,  and  its  glare 
showed  him  above,  great,  red  blotches  staining  the  fair  face 
of  the  woman's  form  hovering  above,  in  an  unearthly 
mocking  beauty,  and  on  that  ivory  bosom  where  the  dead 
man's  lips  had  so  often  pressed  burning  love  kisses,  was  a 
red  stain  of  the  last  life-drops  throbbing  in  Wyman's 
heart.  A  horrible  silence  reigned  in  the  room  of  the 
dead! 

Morani's  cunning  eyes  gleamed.  The  house  was  all  silent. 
He  stooped  and  carefully  picked  up  the  opened  telegram  ly- 
ing there  by  the  side  of  the  corpse.  It  was  spattered  with 
gore.  But,  the  Frenchman  read  it  eagerly.  It  was  signed 
McManus.     Its  words  were  clear: 

"Extradition  proceedings  begun  here  for  forgery  and 
perjury.  Strong  is  here.  Warrants  already  issued.  Offi- 
cers leave  to-night.     See  your  lawyers." 

"  Ah!  "  the  valet  muttered,  as  he  dropped  the  blood- 
stained paper.  "I  have  but  little  time!  "  With  the  deft- 
ness of  old  time  practice,  he  moved  around  the  rooms 
busied  in  a  ghoul's  quest  for  five  minutes.  The  double 
curtains  and  the  solid  white  enameled  shutters  which  had 


THE    ECHOLESS    SHORE.  479 

hidden  so  much  stray  loveliness  in  the  old  days  from 
curious  eyes,  now  shut  off  the  street.  Well  he  knew  that 
all  the  other  lodgers  in  that  seraglio  block  were  now 
busied  with  deeds  without  a  name!  There  was  a  com- 
posed gravity  on  his  face  as  he  sped  out  and  first  stopped 
a  moment  at  a  blackened  door  near  by,  where  a  few  whis- 
pered words  enabled  him  to  quickly  pass  in  a  bundle. 
"I  got  twenty  thousand  francs,  anyway,"  he  exulted. 
"I'll  get  more  yet!  "  But,  his  face  was  very  solemn  as  he 
accosted  Officer  Duffy  in  the  act  of  emerging  with  all  the 
due  ceremony  of  unconscious  innocence,  from  a  corner 
saloon. 

"Come  up  stairs,  Duffy,  come  quickly!"  said  the 
servant  impressively.  "My master  has  just  shot  himself, 
and  I  fear  that  he  is  dead.  I  want  you,  and  a  doc- 
tor!" 

"Howly  God!  That's  news,"  cried  Duffy,  as  he  sprang 
up  the  stairs. 

It  was  too  true!  "Well,  he  had  the  nerve,"  muttered 
Duffy  as  he  lifted  the  palsied  right  arm,  which  fell  back 
again  with  a  dull  sound.  ".The  ball  has  gone  clear 
through  his  head."  And  so  in  the  silent  agony  of  defeat 
and  the  darkness  of  shame,  unloved  and  unregretted, 
Frederick  Wyman  sought  the  echoless  shore. 

It  was  a  month  later  when  the  Lady  of  the  Mariquita 
walked  down  through  the  bleak  gateway  of  Grizzly  Canon, 
where  Steven  Berard  had  once  ridden  to  his  death.  Her 
husband  strode  along  in  silence  at  her  side.  It  was  a  pil- 
grimage of  tender  love;  for,  there  were  now  no  shadows 
on  the  pathway  of  that  life  of  love  that  stretched  before 
her,  so  bright  and  fair. 

The  death  of  the  dark  survivor  of  the  unhappy  partner- 
ship had  left  her  free  to  assume,  unchallenged,  the  owner- 


480  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

ship  of  the  property  for  which,  her  faithful  father  had 
toiled  in  poverty  and  want. 

Waldo  Strong  had  consented  to  assume  the  general 
management  of  her  vast  estate,  while  Captain  Bob  Haley 
had  already  returned  to  break  into  the  now  easily  located 
treasures  of  the  "Mariquita." 

The  first  legal  act  of  the  happy  heiress  was  to  restore 
the  name  once  hallowed  by  a  father's  loving  hopes. 

There  were  sad  duties  resting  upon  the  lawyer,  which 
Otis  confided  to  his  sympathy  and  judgment;  for,  side  by 
side,  the  long  parted  parents  of  the  Lady  Bountiful  of  the 
"Mariquita"  were  to  rest,  in  the  peaceful  shadows  of 
Lone  Mountain,  far  away  by  the  sounding  sea.  And 
already,  the  widows  and  orphans  of  the  sacrificed  miners 
blessed  the  name  of  the  tender-eyed  young  wife. 

"There  is  nothing  more  to  keep  us  here  now,  Hope," 
earnestly  pleaded  her  husband.  "I  wish  you  to  go  away 
with  me,  far  out  over  the  western  seas,  till  we  have  fol- 
lowed the  sun's  track  around  the  world.  We  have  much 
to  say  to  each  other.  There  is  a  new  life  stretching  out 
before  you.  Fqra  time,  I  wish  to  bring  you  to  forget  that 
you  were  once  'Miss  Devereux  of  the  Mariquita.'  You 
must  be  mine  alone!  Let  the  gray  past  sit  veiled  in  its 
palmer's  robes  by  the  milestones  of  life  which  we  have  already 
passed.  I  wish  to  take  you  far  away,  my  darling,  where 
these  voices  of  the  olden  days  do  not  echo." 

Her  face  was,  too,  shaded  with  the  sorrows  of  the  old 
time;  those  memories  of  the  struggles  for  the  buried 
treasures  had  overburdened  her  gentle  soul. 

It  was  on  the  eve  of  their  departure  that  they  stepped 
over  the  threshold  of  the  ruined  cabin,  where  Robert 
Devereux  had  penned  those  now  faded  letters  of  love, 
which  she  had  kissed  so  often  in  grateful  tenderness.  The 
letters  which  spoke  of  a  father's  toil  for  a  loving  wife  and 


THE    ECHOLESS    SHORE.  481 

his  helpless  child.  The  bright  spring  still  flashed  out  in 
diamond  drops  there,  and  trickled  away  merrily  down  the 
lonely  canon. 

Otis  left  her  there  alone  for  a  time,  her  dainty  foot  hal- 
lowing the  old  cabin,  as  her  lips  moved  in  words  of  a  love 
awakened  after  many  long  years.  She  came  forth  at  last, 
with  a  strange  light  on  her  loving  face.  Their  eyes  met  as 
they  stood  there,  under  the  red  light  of  the  dying  day.  It 
transfigured  the  face  of  the  fair  young  wife  as  the  gazed 
around  the  lonely  scene.  The  dim  mountains  rose  far 
beyond  to  the  quiet  sunset  skies.  Shadows  crept  up  the 
canon  softly,  and  the  warring  owl  sounded  his  lonely  note. 
The  darkening  shades  had  no  terrors  for  her  as  they  threw 
a  soft  pall  of  light  around  the  scarped  walls  of  Grizzly 
Canon,  for  the  man  she  loved,  was  tenderly  watching  at 
her  side. 

She  smiled  through  her  tears  as  she  broke  off  a  sprig 
from  the  tall  pine  growing  beside  that  humble  cabin, 
which  was  to  her  a  place  of  holy  memories.  The  rude 
hut  which  had  sheltered  the  dear  dead  heart  which  had 
throbbed  there,  in  love  for  his  little  Hope. 

"God  bless  his  honored  memory,  after  many  years,  the 
harvest  of  his  love  is  reaped.  God  be  with  them  both." 
She  turned  the  beautiful  wistful  eyes  to  the  lover  of  her 
heart. 

"  I  am  so  happy  in  these  days,"  said  Hope,  "for,  even  if 
this  fortune  comes  to  me,  after  many  years  of  sorrow,  you 
share  it  with  me,  and  it  is  a  double  happiness,  for  it  comes 
to  us  both,  as  one  in  heart,  one  in  love's  mystery,  never  to 
be  parted." 

And  then  she  bent  her  shining  eyes  upon  him  with  a  look 
so  full  of  promise  for  that  future  far  beyond  the  sunset 
shadows,  that  he  simply  raised  her  little  hand  and  kissed 
it  in  silence. 


482  MISS    DEVEREUX    OF    THE    MARIQUITA. 

'"May  God  bless  you,  my  own  darling,"  softly 
said  the  man,  who  could  not  trust  himself  to  break  the 
brooding  spell  of  her  loving  memories. 

And  so,  hand  in  hand,  they  wandered  up  the  glen. 


THE    END. 


Miss   Devoreux  of    the  Case 

Manquita- 


■F 


M127569 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


llllllllli±lllllllllllllllllllIllllllliill[||||||||llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll!llllllllllll!l||||Lh|||||||||| 


I  AVER'S 


Hair  Vigor  | 


cures  scalp  humors,  prevents  dandruff,  restores  color 
and  vitality  to  faded  and  gray  hair,  stimulates 
growth,  makes  the  hair  soft,  glossy,  and  beautiful. 
As  a  tonic  and  dressing  for  the  hair  and  scalp  it  has 

no  equal,  being 
used  by  both  ladies 
and  gentlemen 


FOR 
THE 
TOILET 


"I  have  used 
Aver's  Hair  Vigor 
for  years.  It  pre- 
vents the  hair  from  falling  out,  thickens  the  growth 
of  the  hair  and  gives  it  a  fine,  rich,  glossy  appearance, 
such  as  no  other  dressing  will  impart.  It  is  an 
elegant  toilet  article,  and  I  can.  cordially  recom- 
mend it."  — Miss   Dyda  Yates,  Utica,  Mississippi. 

NO  MORE 

GRAY  HAIR 

AYER'S  PILLS  cure  Stomach  Troubles. 


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